” A fair-haired young Englishman looked up from the depths of his easy chair. Girls screamed in chorus. Here he found another strong door, making the fifth he had encountered. “You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance. It was she! The Dawn Pearl! He vaulted the veranda rail, careless now whether or not he was heard, and ran down to the beach. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. He held in his hands many threads. We’ll make short work of them. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. She was instinctively aware of him as she had been of Julian. ” “And my heart has ached for him!” “Oh, no doubt it cut him at the time. She wrapped a leg around him.
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