In the distance a bell clanged, and chattering broke out in the doorway as several nuns came crowding in. “Call me Annabel. All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good. “Leave them!” He yelled. 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. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do. "Do you know this picture?" he added, with another significant look, and pointing to the miniature. . ” Anna shook her head. “There is something to be said for the lady-like theory after all,” she admitted. ” “You remembered.
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