His letter of credit; probably that was it; and, observing the strangeness of the room he was in, his first concern on returning to consciousness would naturally relate to his letter of credit. “Well——” She stopped short. You never can tell. You can’t possibly understand!” He began a confused explanation, a perplexing contradictory apology for his urgency and wrath. " "But that's the point—I don't know. So that way is closed. 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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