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“You’re splendid!” said Teddy, with his hair wild in the wind. 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. He had, for the most part, been correct. A dresser, a washstand, and a clothes press. Easy enough. He had “put his foot down,” and said she must not go.
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