\"Where are you going?\" She cried. " "Arrested!" exclaimed Trenchard, drawing his sword. 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. It was supposed he was drowned in crossing the river, as his body had never been found. She could not help but swoon a little. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. She must not show anything. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. “I have come for an explanation,” she said.
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