I had no right to marry you. That, I think, is manifest. 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. ‘And your schooling?’ he pursued. I won't have a beachcomber on the island.
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