Nevertheless, she could not prevent a rising excitement as the dawn of the new life drew near to her—a thrilling of the nerves, a secret and delicious exaltation above the common circumstances of existence. 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. She should leave sooner, but she just could not bear missing the event. ’ Melusine spread her hands and sighed. He had, he felt, to create certain ideas and vivify certain curiosities and feelings in her. “Why should I bear the burden of your wickedness? Who knows what might come of it? I shall permit nothing of the sort.
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