” She gave herself permission now to look at this squarely. “What the devil do you mean by coming for me like that?” Ennison exclaimed, glowering down upon him. 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. He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment.
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