G. She was with these movements—akin to them, she felt it at times intensely—and yet something eluded her. ” “I know—” said Ramage, with sympathy. . ‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. 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. We can’t be lovers in the ordinary sense, but we can be great and intimate friends.
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