A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. 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 eminent painter had handsome, expressive features, an aquiline nose, and a good deal of dignity in his manner. “Do come and cheer me up. “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. They could not go on. . And I heard ‘Alcide’ sing, and that little dance she did.
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