"Again," cried Jonathan, sternly: "beware!" "What!" vociferated Trenchard. 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. She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance.
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