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. "Heard of your escapes. "Iss, Massa. “You may call anytime. ” She felt, with a sudden horror, that she might weep. " "Her ladyship will pass through it?" "Of course; there's no other way. " "And me," insinuated Mrs.
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