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 have said you do not wish to marry me,’ she accused. She reeled in excitement, she unzipped his pants while kissing him, trying not to let herself stop touching him as she unclothed him. " "She cannot stay here," the manager declared.
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