The Dawn Pearl! To be with her constantly, with no diversions to serve as barricades! Damn McClintock for putting this thought in his head—that Ruth loved him! He flung himself upon the beach, face downward, his outflung hands digging into the sand: which was oddly like his problem—he could not grip it. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. “Will he die?” she asked. She was nearly too giddy still to answer him. She slipped it calmly into her pocket. And yet she knew it was not fair to call her a foolish girl.
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