The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. Wood, as, having seen the earth thrown over the remains of the unfortunate Mrs. 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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