His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. Sheppard, and regarding her with an insolent and threatening glance. Degree! degree! She smiled on a gallant of high degree. 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. She was feeling extraordinarily well that night, so that the sense of her body was a deep delight, a realization of a gentle warmth and strength and elastic firmness.
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