The quarry had passed out into the open sea. 277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. The world, perhaps, will be educated out of its idea of fixed standards. "What is it you want of me?" "All you know about this young fellow Spurlock. 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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