Stir a foot, and I strike. He moved to one side, bowing and gesturing to the door. She had felt very uncomfortable around him, grotesque. He smiled. ‘One would take it that the house had been ransacked. 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.
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