The thought of the picture but added to her despondency. Wood, terrified by the wildness of her looks. Yet you knew that I was not dead. 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.
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