” She peered at him through the semi-blackness. 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. Gerald frowned. I will have nothing to do with you. " "Why, that must be about the time of the Great Storm," rejoined Jackson.
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