His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. ’ ‘Yes, but I’m hanged if I see what your game is. “You and Anna,” she said, “seem to have stumbled upon a mare’s nest. “I gave your name. ‘Do not be imbecile. 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.
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