I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other. "Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. The resemblance was amazing! And some man—he was good-looking—was in the background. Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity. 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. ‘I do not understand you. ’ Pierced to the heart by the poignancy of this utterance, Gerald could neither move nor speak. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. How long he sat there, reeling off this drivel, he never knew. " Upon this he arose, and paced the room hastily backwards and forwards, as if further arranging his plans. I'm almost sorry your suspicions are unfounded, if your father in any way resembled you, my youngster. She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago.
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