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. Sheppard broke from him, and filled the room with her shrieks. I shall now be able to test my skill. ‘None of them means anything to you at all? How odd.
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