We’ll have some buttered toast. If he dies she is safe. ” They were in the elder Widgett girl’s bedroom; Hetty was laid up, she said, with a sprained ankle, and a miscellaneous party was gossiping away her tedium. ‘Parbleu,’ she uttered indignantly. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. Presently he heard her voice. The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city.
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