” Anna lifted her hand and pushed open the trap door. We don’t consider each other; we needn’t. She had made her first fight for dignity and freedom as a grown-up and independent Person, and this was how the universe had treated her. 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. Sheppard. Lucy had caught it when it was a millimeter away from hitting her teeth. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness.
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