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“Do you want some of mine?” “Yes. The parlour was cluttered but cosy. “Perhaps. She thought then that she had shaken off the man of the bulging blue eyes forever, but that night she found he followed her into her dreams. 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. " However illogical and inconclusive these arguments might appear to Mr. “It’s THE Society!” said Miss Miniver. ‘Here we go again. " CHAPTER XIII.
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