There was a long silence between them. You are the High Priestess of Life. 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. ‘Forgive this intrusion, ma’am, I beg. Spurling. Kneebone, I came hither as your guest. ‘Don’t rightly know how you make that out, you being a French spy and a prisoner and all. ’ ‘Miss?’ gaped the soldier. Her tone was hoarse with passion. Apparently he thought it very much worth while.
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