She would not be driven in by this persistent, sneaking aggression. 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. Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast. Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness. " "No doubt, my dear," acquiesced the carpenter, "no doubt. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 00:45:39