" CHAPTER XVIII. She was bathed in turbid water that had already been used. 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. She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table. "He does," replied Kneebone, "and, what is more surprising, it seems to increase. Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts.
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