He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. 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. " The Wastrel rushed. She thought she had hidden well from him.
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