"What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly. Is Jack what Mrs. " There was a pause. 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. Under her feet lay intricate mosaics, and each warm hall was festooned in tapestries. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. It was an impulse.
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