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. You take them. “The man alone could supply any, and if he recovers sufficiently to say anything, what he would say would exonerate you. Stow it in the saddle, for I will take it with me.
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