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. He did not disturb any of this litter, but left it as a mark of his prowess. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled.
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