I thought that I was marrying Meysey Hill, not that creature. Only old librarians and Shirley Temples say that. “What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must. 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. Hill was seated. Of course he hadn't played the game wisely. "What's that?" demanded McClintock. Work becomes distasteful; one thinks of holidays. “Let me see,” she said to herself, trying to control a slight sinking of the heart, “I am going to take a room in a lodging-house because that is cheaper.
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