Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. It was she! The Dawn Pearl! He vaulted the veranda rail, careless now whether or not he was heard, and ran down to the beach. “Annabel!” she exclaimed. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. It was still possible the child might be in safety.
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