” Lucy added, growing weary. I'll tell you what. I'm a graybeard, an old bachelor; so I am accorded certain privileges. Give way, and let us render what assistance we can to the poor wretch. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. The shot had taken effect upon the waterman who rowed the chase. 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. No, don’t let me call myself that. The great heart of the world beats only where men and women are gathered together.
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