Annabel entered. "Gentlemen of the Mint," said the orator, "when I was first called, some fifty
years ago, to the important office I hold, there existed across the water three
places of refuge for the oppressed and persecuted debtor. 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. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to
write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering,
perhaps a trifle laboriously. “Drive towards St.
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