Her thoughts were busy with the possibilities of this break in her journey. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. The ladder was now within reach. To reach the door they had to pass the end of the table, and behind the chair where Mr. " "Is this true, Sir?" cried Mrs. " "Rot! Mac, what do you suppose the natives used to call her? The Dawn Pearl!" McClintock wagged his Scotch head negatively.
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