She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. "Oh! no—no—no," cried Winifred, "I cannot believe it. " "Rot! Mac, what do you suppose the natives used to call her? The Dawn Pearl!" McClintock wagged his Scotch head negatively. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences. Her blood spurted into his mouth and he drank. She ought to have leapt back on guard. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. ” She stopped short, full of things un-said.
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