Two women entered and sat down at the adjoining table. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. It was Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows. 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. The doorbell tinkled and Michelle grabbed her purse and rushed down the creaky wooden stairs. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.
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