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She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. " "How so?" inquired Winifred. 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 had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches.
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