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What isn’t a day-dream is this: that you and I are going to put an end to flummery—and go!” “Go!” said Ann Veronica, clenching her hands. 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. ‘How she pouted, and tried to make out that she had been imposed upon. No, no! Not now!" Ruth turned abruptly and walked toward the bungalow, mounted the veranda steps, and vanished within. CHAPTER XVIII. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. Perhaps my wife has already prepared you for what I wish to say. . He had an air of having told her a deep, personal secret.
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