He opened the drawer of the writing table. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke. There is a place—This isn’t the place. 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. Ann Veronica stared for a moment in amazement at this dark-green object that clashed as it was put down. . "No, Rollo; not this afternoon. He cannot.
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