He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. " "Rot! Mac, what do you suppose the natives used to call her? The Dawn Pearl!" McClintock wagged his Scotch head negatively. " "And never should again, were he mine," rejoined Jonathan. . It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace.
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