“I knew that you waited at the farmhouse. ” Mr. Michelle walked up the concrete porch steps, gesturing to Lucy to do the same. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. This ice was used for refrigerator purposes and for McClintock's evening peg. ‘You see now how dangerous it is to play this lone hand. 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. She visualized him as in a policeman’s uniform and quite impassive.
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