Sheila bellowed, a great wail of a sound from deep in her belly, flinging her tremendous weight towards him. " "What's the matter?" remarked Kneebone, addressing Sheppard, who, as he caught the single but piercing eye of Jackson fixed upon him, started and trembled. Was it a week ago? No, perhaps more. He dared not go on. 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. That's one of the troubles with young folks: they take themselves so seriously.
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