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. Sheppard, which she gratefully declined. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. It is only the women matter. He leaned forward to embrace her. They found a river pool and disrobed together as they had for hundreds of years. ’ Gerald infused sympathy into his voice, and deliberately addressed himself to Madame. . Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. It hardly served his interests. “Thanks, Cathy.
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