The pistol fell to the floor. “I wonder,” said Ramage, “that more girls don’t think as you do and want to strike out in the world. 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. In a side-glance—for the floor was variously encumbered with overturned objects—he saw one of his paper weights, a coloured glass ball such as McClintock used in trade. When he faced Spurlock, the granite was cracked and rived; never had Spurlock seen such dumb agony in human eyes. I’m not a bit afraid of anything—scandal, difficulty, struggle.
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