She sought hastily in her mind for a plausible answer to an obvious question that didn’t come. She seemed to grow more beautiful to him and not the opposite. 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. "Not a farthing of it shall be expended except in the Captain's service.
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