But I shan't let him off thus. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. 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. ‘Don’t concern yourself, Hilary. We may be all murdered in this unprotected place, and nobody be the wiser. To many in that crowded solitude it came as an extraordinary relief.
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