’ ‘Oh, that,’ Gerald said cautiously. The father was a madman. ” “It takes a great deal of bad weather to depress the true Parisian,” Anna admitted. “I was frightened then,” she declared. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. 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 might have told you the truth.
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