“By God!” said Ann Veronica for the first time in her life. Eight per cent. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. He realized that he was committed to the path across the fields, an uninteresting walk at the best of times. . 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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