His name was Sebastianus. " "You are very kind, Sir," returned the widow, "but I require no support. 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. ’ ‘But you must want more. Ruth crossed over to the dramatist of this tragicomedy and put a hand on his shoulder.
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