I ought to be able to think things out. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. ” Sir John clutched at the table with both hands. She closed her eyes as if asleep, her hands folded neatly on her abdomen.
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