Through her door curtain she could see the light from the study lamp. 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. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind.
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