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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. Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. ” “Oh!” said Ann Veronica. " "True, and I shan't be easy till my turn arrives.
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