At the sight of her he became rigid and a singularly bright shade of pink. 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. "I see nothing surprising in it," rejoined Jonathan. Saren and Kevin lavished compliments upon her performance that made her blush as Martin looked at her adoringly, nodding in agreement.
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