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. Her stifled misery had betrayed her. She had been working upon a ribbon of microtome sections of the developing salamander, and he came to see what she had made of them. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. " And then he added, in an under tone, "Conceal yourself outside, and be within call.
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