He was absolutely unable to focus his ideas. "Don't alarm yourself about him, Sir," replied Austin. The low ceiling made him seem abnormally tall. Her mind left her. So strongly was he impressed with this idea, that grasping the iron bar with both hands, he dashed it furiously against the door, making the passage echo with the blows. He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant. 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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