It's fine with me if it's fine with Cathy, darlin’. ’ ‘Woof!’ The sergeant appeared nonplussed, and Melusine pressed her advantage. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. 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. Gianfrancesco had told her about it, how he had played in it as a child with his brothers.
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