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. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. "Don't disturb yourself," said his follower, motioning him to keep still; "it's all right. Hill again—alive. I should feel that I had been obliged to find some one else to fight my battles for me. You're an angel of goodness.
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