’ Gerald held out his hand, and she meekly gave the dagger up to him. 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. "I can't make you understand; I can't make you see things as I see them. ” Brendon hesitated for a moment. And then she fell into a musing about Capes.
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