” “Thousands of women have married merely for freedom,” said Miss Miniver. F. F. 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. He had been baptized there. Very few survived her trials. Come and have lunch with me. ” “You are his first wife!” The pieces fell together for her instantly.
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