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\" That again. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. It was not only that her father had said all sorts of inconsistent and unreasonable things, but that by some incomprehensible infection she herself had replied in the same vein. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. 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 raised his brows. ‘You have no need to be afraid of us. You can pay me when we return.
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