1. We met dissecting dogfish. 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. Ever since the young police officer had arrived on her doorstep the clock had started ticking faster. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. Even the basest objects sold in the 24 roadside shops were beautiful in some way. A hand of iron fell upon the scowling young man’s shoulder. Do you want to kill us both? Stop the thing. Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night.
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