Not so Gosse. 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. There must be persons tender and loving in this world. They hissed me!” “Beasts!” he muttered. Take your pick, Mrs. Rhea writhed and scuttled about like a crab. ” “Go!” he said.
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