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Vaguely she heard the distinctive sound of male voices as she saw Gosse dive towards the fateful pew. Mounting the door he had last opened, he placed his hands on the wall above, and quickly drew himself up. 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. That was an admission all right.
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