Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. 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. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. “Dear friend,” she said, “this is a matter which you must leave to me to do as I think best. ‘I trust you are cursing Valade, and not Melusine. “If I sit here,” he said, standing up before her abruptly, “I shall have to shout.
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