She found herself alone in the train asking herself what she must do next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face. In the first place there were not so many suitable advertisements as she had expected. She came to befriend the female mistresses, some who were even so audacious as to bring their children into the house. 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. "I give you one minute for reflection. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes. " "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering.
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