” “I know—” said Ramage, with sympathy. " "Company!" echoed Rachel; "at this time of night?" "Company, child," repeated Kneebone. 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. Rattles were sprung; lanterns lighted, and hoisted at the end of poles; windows thrown open; doors unbarred; and, as if by magic, the street was instantaneously filled with a crowd of persons of both sexes, armed with such weapons as came most readily to hand, and dressed in such garments as could be most easily slipped on. “What you have said is a ridiculous falsehood,” she declared scornfully. Perhaps there were experiences she would never confide to any man.
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