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As the day wore on, the crowds diminished,—many who would not submit to the turnkey's demands were sent away ungratified,—and at five o'clock, only two strangers, Mr. He had a blue overstuffed couch, his own television, even a computer with its own desk. It was she! The Dawn Pearl! He vaulted the veranda rail, careless now whether or not he was heard, and ran down to the beach. At first Spurlock tasted coconut in his eggs, in what meat he ate; it permeated everything, taste and smell. If there were any pearls, none came into the light.
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