It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. She found the silence comforting, as old people often do. 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 never understood how much knowledge had been kept from her because she was a woman and even began to doubt the methods of the Church, something she never would have dared before. ‘And take you this sword. His statement was treated with derision. The very sight of these impediments, would have appalled a less courageous spirit than Sheppard's—but nothing could daunt him. C. The knife is at my breast. Stanley, at the door.
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