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. Seizing her hand he covered it with kisses. He dug about in his mind for a term to fit her, and he came upon the word new. At length, about three o'clock, as the first glimmer of dawn became visible through the barred casements of the round-house, the rattling of bolts and chains at the outer door told that some one was admitted. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. But I have two hundred thousand pounds. She realized in a moment what had happened. Now Owen Wood had one fair child, Unlike her mother, meek and mild; Her love the draper strove to gain, But she repaid him with disdain. ‘It was your son who left the place empty then?’ he asked.
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