” “Are you master of all three methods?” she asked, stopping her fanning for a moment to look at him. His body went limp, and as he withdrew she ironically found herself at the doorway for the first time in her life of being truly aroused. 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.
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