"Where did you find it!" asked Wood. 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. ” “How could you!” She exclaimed. I am dreadfully sad. She had told Emile. " "There, now! You mustn't get mixed.
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