Now the baby’s bright May eyes peered up at her intently. “I——” The door opened, and the doctor entered softly. 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. 9. There are some papers I have to look through to-night—important papers.
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