’ He laughed. Acne sprayed her cheeks in a fine red spatter where it intermingled with brown freckles. Come and have lunch with me. 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. “Did she? I’m sorry, Mike. The boy was coming around.
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