Ennison himself, with the recollection of Annabel’s visit still fresh in his mind, was for a moment constrained and ill at ease. 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. Yes—as he would have liked. A pane of glass was shivered by each stone. When I think of the love you give me—One ought to give you back love. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin.
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