This lover of yours—” “He doesn’t know!” cried Ann Veronica. 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. Eating him while he was at the end of a heroin binge left her sleepy and dazed. Montague Hill. ’ ‘Yes, that’s what I’m talking about,’ Gerald said.
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