Cheveney walked away with a shrug of the shoulders. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. 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. The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. The son of Prudence instead was obliged to take her back to the convent on Sunday to see Martha and tell her the good news, and to fetch her meagre belongings. "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. Every afternoon, from now on, I will teach you a little about life—I mean the worldly points of view you're likely to meet. But I found it no laughing matter, I can assure you.
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