He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. I might forgive him that, for he obviously taught her a good deal that she has found useful. 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 do love you. I see now that you make a game with me indeed. These sham ideals and advanced notions. He would have sent the Virgin Mary to heal the baby.
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