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. " "Thank God for that!" cried Wood, heartily. ‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything. ’ She turned, her eyes narrowed. "And someday let him care for me!" She sprang up, alarmed. Whenever you grow impatient with her, remember the folly of her father. At present the world waits for that writer, and the confused record of the newspapers remains the only resource of the curious. On examining his pockets, he found about twenty guineas in gold, and some silver.
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