Her hand came up and she laced her fingers with his. 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. Small blame to her. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. Her father was an astute businessman and a hard worker, but also handsome in the face which had aided partly his ascension to the Guild. It got on my nerves—the women I saw.
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This video was uploaded to ineel.net on 08-06-2024 04:15:34
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