’ He glanced at Roding. She gurgled. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. ” Sir John, frankly oblivious of the possibility of passers-by, took her into his arms and kissed her. He and his friends (he had at least two per class, even in Trigonometry) would make their exits as quickly as possible. 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.
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