“Grail!” said Ann Veronica, and then: “Oh, yes—of course! Anything but a holy one, I’m afraid. 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. Lucy dug out an old light gray cotton miniskirt that had shrunk on Shari in the wash. ” “That sounds very interesting,” she answered coolly. Naturally it all came out then. He, for his part, was trying to grasp the series of unexpected reactions that had so wrecked their tete-a-tete.
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