It's your eagerness that bothers me. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. 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. Will you be a faithful and honest wife? Will you do your duty by him, and forget all your past follies? Unless, Annabel, you can——” “Oh, I will pledge you my word,” Annabel cried passionately, “my solemn word. He’s a footman who works for the nuns and has taken up the cudgels on her behalf. I don’t care if you’re not a virgin, that’s not how I really am.
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