“He was a friend of your sister’s, was he not?” “I never heard her mention his name,” she answered. Turning, she flew for the nearest door. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. Presently, however, a sudden movement occurred, and disclosed his features, which were those of a young man of nearly his own age. ” “For the others,” Annabel said tearfully, “that is well enough. 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. Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city.
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