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. She moaned
as he buried himself completely to the hilt. There were menacing possibilities;
the thought of them set him a-tremble. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the
silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the
coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s
shop that led to the field path to her home. Seeing Jack at liberty, he instantly seized
him, and a struggle commenced. She nuzzled his chest
and he breathed deeply of the scent of her Finesse
conditioner. She had
never let off a pistol in her life.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ1LjEwLjQ1IC0gMDMtMDctMjAyNCAwNzowNzozMCAtIDczNzMzMTE1NQ==
This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 29-06-2024 14:46:51