" "Never," echoed Smith, emphatically, "upon my honour. ” Ann Veronica started from her reverie, sat up in her chair, became attentive. Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know. "Good night!" "So," muttered Jonathan, "having started the hare, I'll now unleash the hounds. 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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