” She glanced out of the window, and the distant trees were a froth of hard spring green and almond blossom. " Sir Rowland, meantime, throw himself on his knees beside his sister, and, clasping her chilly fingers within his own, besought her forgiveness in the most passionate terms. He wanted to become a millionaire. ‘How did you guess?’ ‘I guessed as soon as you said this was your house. Forgive me. 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.
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