She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. What befell Jack Sheppard in the Turner's House. 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.
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