" The Wastrel tried to reach Ruth's lips. "Then you ought to be thankful to me for the warning. And then at the street corner she came face to face with Nigel Ennison. 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. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. Rituals instead of medicines. Without Jack, it was certain that she faced danger if she went outside Golden Square. Norris was so frightened that she ordered the postboys to drive back as fast as they could.
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