“Idiots!” she said, when she heard this pandemonium, and with particular reference to this young lady with the throaty contralto next door. Although she did not understand why he persisted in this pursuit of her affairs. Hearing the distant shouts, these fellows rushed down to the entrance of the court, and arrived there just as Jack passed it. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. The poor boy, wanting his empty coat! The incident, however, caused her to review the recent events. 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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