"That's for Mrs. He was now almost driven to despair. She took her hat from the peg in the corner and began to put it on. 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. “She must,” said Mr.
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