‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. 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. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. A woman cannot change her soul.
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