"Sometimes a cup of lies is a cheering thing," replied the trader. “Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. “He fell over at my feet,” she continued. 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.
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