It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. The first stroke appeared to arouse all the vindictive passions of Jonathan. Stir a foot, and I strike. This incredible scene robbed him of the sense of locomotion. 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. Just now the waterchestnuts…. S.
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