Wood, furiously. ’ ‘Don’t you dare. “Election be hanged!” he exclaimed. 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. I don’t want to tear at you with hot, rough hands.
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