Prudence? Mr Remenham’s sister that was. 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. ‘I can argue with him very well indeed. ” He leaned back for his soup. ‘Very useful, of course. I’m damaged goods. But she did not in the least want to do that.
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