Gerald was instantly on the alert. There was something fatalistic about the letter H. My husband, he is cruel and wicked, and—and entirely undistinguished. There is no other way. 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. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence. It was a sickening process, and the sucking sound was sure to wake up Ray’s mother. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her.
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