"You have said," pursued the widow, "that she, who has once erred, is irreclaimable. 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. " "I wish you hadn't mentioned her," said Jack, in a broken voice, while his whole frame shook with emotion. This isn't your island, child; it's the great world. “What are you two whispering about?” She turned towards Martin. " "Better she die by her own hand, than by that monster's," cried Jack, brandishing the bar.
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