From the white beach the palms ran in serried rows quarter of a mile inland, then began a jungle of bamboo, gum-tree, sandalwood, plantain, huge fern, and choking grasses. I didn’t allow myself to see things as they were in those days; now I do. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury.
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