In the obscurity in which it was now seen, it looked like a prison, and, indeed, it was Jonathan's fancy to make it resemble one as much as possible. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. " "Rot! Mac, what do you suppose the natives used to call her? The Dawn Pearl!" McClintock wagged his Scotch head negatively. ’ ‘That is what you think? Eh bien. Later, she understood his reasons; and it had now become habit.
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