If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. You are the woman I love, Anna. The dance itself was anticlimactic, with teenagers trying their best to look the part of adult sophisticates on the dance floor. ” Anna moved softly to the window, and threw up the sash. Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor. 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. "To-morrow it will be mine. Give me your hand. You did not say a word about it last week, nor have you written.
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