Clarice was from Lombardy, fair-haired and light skinned. ” “And what do you think I ought to do?” “Exactly!” He lifted a paper-weight and dabbed it gently down again. “Concern me!” she repeated fiercely. It was no use. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. 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.
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