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“I suppose, Mr. But Spurlock was ever on guard, even when she fussed over his hair. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. 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. Jack in all probability, would have escaped, if Langley, who was left in the Lodge, had not been alarmed at the noise and rushed thither. ‘When you’re my age, you’ll be just as hardheaded.
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