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. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. He believes that he is leaving this conscience behind; and I want to watch his disillusion on this particular point. Never! And they don’t know it! They have no idea of it. He resumed his listening. " "And why not, old saltwater?" inquired Ben, turning a quid in his mouth. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions.
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