Shortly Ruth and Spurlock took the way home. Morals only begin when that is settled. “I have given it up,” she answered. An admirable alternative presented itself and she sighed, spreading her hands. ’ ‘I think you—’ He broke off abruptly, astonished at what he had been about to say. She wrote it down. ‘Don’t concern yourself,’ Gerald said calmly. Her concluding paragraph was, on the whole, perhaps, hardly starchy enough. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. 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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