"Don't you perceive, my dear Mrs. The hurricane appeared to have raged in this quarter with tenfold fury. 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 lights of the Champs Elysées and the Place de la Concorde, suggestive, brilliant, seductive, shone like an army of fireflies against the deep cool background of the night. “If it will keep you busy,” he said, with a faintly ironical smile. After passing Tottenham Court Road, very few houses were to be seen on the right hand, opposite Wardour Street it was open country. . She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again.
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