She went past three keenly observant and ostentatiously preoccupied waiters down the thickcarpeted staircase and out of the Hotel Rococo, that remarkable laboratory of relationships, past a tall porter in blue and crimson, into a cool, clear night. Can’t travel alone, a pair of nuns. She is curiously altered in many ways. " "And now you are back in the world again, with things to do and places to go. Chairs were overturned. To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. 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. Wood heard the cry.
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