My dear—I can call you that here, anyhow—I know that. 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. He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. If only Gerald would come.
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