" "Rot! Mac, what do you suppose the natives used to call her? The Dawn Pearl!" McClintock wagged his Scotch head negatively. You ought to know that. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. “You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman. “Let’s go home. ‘You do not try. “Lucy Albert, sir.
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