"She has flown up stairs," replied the widow. 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. The van started with a jerk and rumbled on its way. ” Martin’s parents dragged their boy out by his ear immediately after dessert, claiming that they had a wedding to attend the next day.
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