But the first one was brought home, and it was the beginning of the end. It is necessary. “I knew that you waited at the farmhouse. 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's one person in the house whom I wouldn't frighten for the world.
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