“We can be alone?” She inquired. 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. " "Queer birds. ‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. If all wives were of my mind and my spirit, husbands would soon be taught their own insignificance. With a curt command to her cavalier to get up on the box and give the direction to the interested coachman, he jumped in beside the girl and shut them both into privacy. His mind was busy with a résumé of yesterday's unusual events.
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