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. Lord bless you marm! we sees plenty on 'em in our purfession. She guessed that he probably slept all of three hours a night at most. There was a look in her eyes which puzzled him. ‘It needs not that you tell me.
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This video was uploaded to ineel.net on 07-06-2024 07:15:49
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