Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. “TROUSERS!” she whispered. The Oriental waterfronts were rank with the stuff. Empty, silly, coarse brutes. But all of that was forgotten. ’ ‘Oh yes, or walked through the walls, I dare say. 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 dress for no man lays a snare; A man scores always, everywhere. People, nobody, can do as they like in this world.
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