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“On or about the day you receive this letter, Anna, the six months will be up. 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. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. To have the present lengthen into years! But in a few hours she would be upon her way, far lonelier than she had ever been. She tiptoed into the entryway where some decorator had placed a live orchid upon a glassy ebony table. IX. We come out into the world, some of us—” She paused.
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