’ She bit her lip and thought deeply. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. I daresay you have the whole thing wrong, Gerald. He does not look the criminal. 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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