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. ” 74 She hung up the phone. In fact, Gerald had given order to the coachman to drive out of Golden Square and then stop around the corner. “Anna! Thank God I have found you at last. I packed so hurriedly that it will take me a long time to find my things. Something draws everybody. ” He scarcely saw her face again.
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