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 was in the front row, and I fancied she smiled at me. I have two days in which to earn nearly thirty shillings—that is with no dinners, and get a situation. As I shall take and hold. “Indeed, I must implore you to return.
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