Too close, he reasoned, for safety. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. gutenberg. ” He was silent for some moments. ‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer. 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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