Detention was merry for the other detainees. She seemed tense when not playing, he noted, more so than she had during the first two pieces. They shall hear of me no more. 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. "Take it," cried Wood, holding the infant towards her; "take it, and fly.
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