Return to him, I say—" "I can't," replied Jack, doggedly. 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. Now we meet again, and you will scarcely look at me. Let me keep you from that man’s clutches. If it was not an actual personal lover, it still might be the lover not yet incarnate, not yet perhaps suspected. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. She rested her head upon his shoulder.
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