For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. I want to stand between you and all the force and vileness of the world. She had never had a pet, never had a real doll. ‘To me, quickly!’ There was a brief hush, and then the shouts resumed and several pairs of feet clattered towards her from, as it seemed, several directions. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. " All day long the phrase interpolated her thoughts. Get the pole out of your ass. 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.
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