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. Neither the manners, the looks, nor the attire of these gentlemen prepossessed Mrs. ” “I am afraid I have not been very nice,” she said sadly. CHAPTER XXVII. “All right so far,” she said to herself. I love him!" She was weak and dizzy: from horror as much as from physical exertion.
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