" "Mr. I'm sure she'll let me go, though. It did not shock her; it amazed her, interested her beyond measure. \"I'm not hungry either, I'm still worked up from that game. 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. The McCloskeys had picked Lucy from a bunch of children languishing at the Illinois Christian Home for Children.
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