“What are you looking at, Hilary?”
“Just the bay,” he answered. “We’re in for a storm.”
“It feels close enough for a cyclone,” she answered. “Who was your friend who was here?”
“No friend of mine. A Mr. Harker, a sailor.”
“Had you seen him before?”
“No.”
“What did he come about?”
“Just a minute,” he said. “If we are in for a cyclone, would you not prefer to go into town for the night? This forest will be a dree place in a gale.”
“It will be sheltered here,” she said. “I’d rather be in a forest than in a city during a cyclone.”
“I’m not so sure,” he answered. “These pine trees wail so.”