’ She simpered, and withdrew one hand so that she might smack his fingers playfully. 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. How Jack Sheppard's Portrait was painted. You represent to me an enigma, the solution of which has become the one desire of my life.
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