‘Just what I was going to tell you, miss. ” They were eating quails when they returned to the topic of love. "It'll ease your mind. I was his wife. No, don’t interrupt me. 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. Stanley lost patience. One cannot trust any man at all.
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