Why can’t you let it be?’ Gerald grinned at him. He seemed to be about to move toward her. “What happened then?” Michelle asked fearfully. ‘Monsieur Charvill thought perhaps that his daughter would find not a welcome. You are marvelous!” Carolyn Diedermayer exclaimed. 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.
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