When you send for me I shall come back. 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. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. Even Mike can make a pretty tasty hamburger. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. I must go and dress at once. The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face.
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