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. It would give me great pleasure if you would dine with me somewhere first. True to her nature, Cathy had already offered John snacks and drinks of water twice by the time Lucy bounded down the stairs at 3:58.
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