Earles strode into the waiting-room. \" He rose and departed. 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. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast.
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