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. ” “And my heart has ached for him!” “Oh, no doubt it cut him at the time. But I wrapped it in that nun’s gear you give me. do you think I don’t know the meaning of love?” Part 4 Capes made no answer for a time. “You’re Glorious!” said Miss Miniver in tones of rapture, holding a hand in each of hers and peering up into Ann Veronica’s face.
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