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. The light touch of Ah Cum's hand upon her arm broke the thread of retrospective thought; and her gray eyes began to register again the things she saw. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. “Girls. “You’ve been sneaking out just as often as Mary Lucia. There was every indication that she fled the island in company with a dissolute rogue.
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