He made his speech a little elaborately. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. Be honest, and you will be happy. 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. Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire.
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