She flew up from her stool and faced the door. ’ ‘I’m afraid you are right. “Be so good as to stand away from that door at once, sir,” Brendon ordered. The satisfaction of cheating Death again. 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. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. She asked no further questions for the moment.
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