Manning leaned forward on the table, talking discursively on the probable brilliance of their married life. "I find I was in error. 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. It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway. “You do not even know what you are talking about. "At length, my vengeance is complete. Listen to me, Winifred. She caught her breath, and her eyes were lit with a sudden terror.
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