When I went I was refused admittance. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. She ought to have been disposed to faint and scream at all these happenings; she ought to have maintained a front of outraged dignity to veil the sinking of her heart. One keeps rules in order to be one’s self. Here was a thundering blow.
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