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. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. Goodbye. ‘He don’t mean you no harm. He could not move; but stood like one stupified, with his hands clasped together, and eyes almost starting out of their sockets, fixed upon his unfortunate parent. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. Mama will be expecting me.
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