The garçon was tipped as he had never been tipped before in his life. ‘Don’t rightly know how you make that out, you being a French spy and a prisoner and 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. It was as if the Devil himself had raped and defiled her mother.
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