It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. Lucy stared at the girl for a long ten seconds, and then looked away. 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. She chose to hold her nose. 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. Ruth obeyed, not willingly, but because there was something hypnotic in the authoritative tone. Leave me behind: I'm not afraid. There was no other door in it, and Jack therefore struck into another entry which branched off to the right. Perhaps she did love research for its own sake, she was certainly gifted enough.
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