"This is the explanation of the bloody deed. My uterus and my ovaries are gone. As this had been Mrs. "But you've given me what I don't possess. Pure romantic nonsense on her part. 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.
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