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. This was not exactly what the woollen-draper desired. Cathy had not even noticed that she herself was wet and trailing water everywhere. "Thinking it likely you might desire to have this information, I prepared accordingly.
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