Lead the lad to suppose that he'll be introduced to Lady Trafford. ‘You were right, miss. 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. His complexion was pale; and there was something sinister in the expression of his large black eyes. It is safe.
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