The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. She leaned back in her chair. “I went to Anna’s rooms because I felt that I must see her. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. 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.
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