"Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. His food lay untouched about his plate. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. 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. ‘You don’t even know what it means, do you?’ Melusine frowned. He was the true optimist; and that he should proceed, serenely unconscious of reefs and storms, she accepted the double buffets. ’ ‘Compel me? You do not know me, monsieur. 3.
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