” “You said you loved me – did you mean it?” He said. “I have had adventures—oh, more than one, I can assure you. Better get back now! You be careful. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. 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.
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