” And thus it was that as Ann Veronica neared the gates of home, she said to herself: “I’ll have it out with him somehow. Shari was snoring, the pill having worked its magic. 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 may," replied Jack: "I'll fight for you to the last gasp.
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