He was instantly overpowered, and stretched upon the ground. Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck. 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. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. “The father was in the army, and got a half-pay job at St. This was a much more serious task than he anticipated. But it is my fault.
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