He appeared to thunder dire happenings if she did not obey him without further ado. 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. You've betrayed yourself, Thames. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes. ‘General, we do not know.
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