"Well, it's a good story. 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. His large, coarse lips drew wider apart. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. My dear—I can call you that here, anyhow—I know that. He saw rifts in clouds—sunshine.
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