The carpenter did not hesitate a moment. She was wan and white. “May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. . " "Mr. “I had a dream in the night,” she said. ‘Certainly you must have seen her. How Jack Sheppard got rid of his Irons 429 XXVI. 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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