Could she go through with it? She must. The doorbell tinkled and Michelle grabbed her purse and rushed down the creaky wooden stairs. The Dawn Pearl! To be with her constantly, with no diversions to serve as barricades! Damn McClintock for putting this thought in his head—that Ruth loved him! He flung himself upon the beach, face downward, his outflung hands digging into the sand: which was oddly like his problem—he could not grip it. What CAN she put before that?” His voice began to rise. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. ‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed.
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