But it annoyed Ann Veronica. She decided that she would try to push whatever resolve he had in the car to see where it would lead. 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. What was to hinder me, if I had been so inclined, from directing them to your retreat?" "Enough," replied Darrell. They were his friends, and they recognized his unusual earnestness. Bullding repeated, rather struck with the phrase. "It's an odd-shaped one," rejoined Kneebone, examining it attentively. From then on he was Ruth's dog.
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