The sight of the thief-taker increased the fury of the mob to a fearful degree. ‘Are you going to come quietly, mademoiselle?’ he demanded with grim determination. 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. That’s my point.
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