McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might. " "On no account," rejoined Wood peremptorily. Towards this spot Mrs. ‘That is settled then. 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. The girl, with a little moan, crossed the room and threw open the window. The storm appeared to have blown over, for they were conversing in a very amicable manner with Mr. “We were bound to do this when you kissed me,” she sobbed through her tears.
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