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’ Her gaze followed the butler, who was moving towards the door. ‘That is not your affair. ‘I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about. But I swear she ain’t told me nothing more, sir. I felt suddenly I understood you—as an intelligent person. 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 don't know.
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