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. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably. Suddenly a half stifled exclamation broke from Anna’s lips. But Miss Mary and me—’ Melusine looked up as the woman broke off again. And lunged once more. In the heart of the jungle the dog had his private muck baths.
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