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 sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. With her lived a Mrs. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. Some man! And to conclude it all was the figure of her father in the doorway, giving her a last chance, his hat in one hand, his umbrella in the other, shaken at her to emphasize his point. When I am leading a true life, a pure and simple life free of all stimulants and excitements, I think—I think— oh! with pellucid clearness; but if I so much as take a mouthful of meat—or anything—the mirror is all blurred.
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