” She said. They reluctantly went back to school the Thursday after New Year’s Day. 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. ” She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her wrinkled forehead. She was no longer a confederate in that.
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