He walked with bent head. It was she! The Dawn Pearl! He vaulted the veranda rail, careless now whether or not he was heard, and ran down to the beach. But it does not sound as if the girl that wears the name resembles either of her parents. “I’m sorry, ma’am, to seem the cause of any disturbance, but this,” he pointed to Anna, “is my wife. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. As in a dream, Melusine saw her faithful footman struck, his headlong progress checked.
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