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. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. ” “But what did father imagine?” “Of course he imagined! Any one would! ‘What has happened, Peter?’ I asked. I’ll show it to you later. ” He panted. If your wife can coach you a bit in native lingo, it will help all round. ” She stopped with an air of interrogation. Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth.
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