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. "It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. I was grateful.
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