Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. " "Rot! Mac, what do you suppose the natives used to call her? The Dawn Pearl!" McClintock wagged his Scotch head negatively. Her sleepless night had left her languid but not stupefied, and for an hour or so the work distracted her altogether from her troubles. \"Has your heart melted, Lucia? Can you see the purposefulness of your future?\" Marina asked. And yet, she would be easy prey in her present state of mind to any plausible, attractive scoundrel.
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