He was content to talk about himself, though in the back of his clever mind he already suspected that she was not offering any details about her life. It is very sweet of you to have waited for me. So, very carefully, he raised her in his arms and carried her to her bed. I can’t. ’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. Lucia liked the doctor though, and he seemed to be very fond of her too. 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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