” “NEVER!” Her heart sank at the change in his expression. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness. “The first person you love, Ann Veronica, is yourself—get hold of that! The soul you have to save is Ann Veronica’s soul. Play foul, and win. “Um, okay. 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. "I have some difficulty in preventing myself from becoming your executioner.
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