” Lucy grew hot. “But, my dear,” she began, “it is Impossible! It is quite out of the Question. He had a narrow escape, however; for, passing within an inch of him, the bullet burried itself deeply in the wall. ” “I thought you would find that out. Towards night, however, he ventured out, and walked on towards London. I asked him—to take me away. What had actually beaten him was not to have known if someone had picked up his trail. 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. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury. There was—a service.
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