"No, please! It is good luck for a dog to enter your house. “But was it wise to sing to-night?” “Why not? The man was nothing to me. There was another little thing he had to say. “I regret that you should ever have proposed it,” he went on. 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. Spurlock lay with his head on his arms, asleep. Got detained in the City, and——” Then he met the fixed, breathless gaze of those wonderful eyes from the other side of the table, and he, too, broke off in the middle of his sentence. ’ ‘Very true.
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