She recalled that day of the typhoon and the sloop crashing on the outer reefs. “I’m fine,” she said softly. I saw her face and it was the face that had been hidden from me in dreams, a face very much like yours, Lucia. ‘You do not understand, Gérard. “Steady on!” he cried. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. For all the enervating heat, he applied himself vigorously to his tasks.
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