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. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Lucy asked. Melusine did not pause, but reached down to grasp the hilt of his sword and lift it.
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