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 sisters here will not save you. Oh God! my limbs fail me. " "Ay, but it is strange how much it resembles somebody for whom it's not intended. The picture of her flashed across the doctor's vision magically.
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