" "Rot! Mac, what do you suppose the natives used to call her? The Dawn Pearl!" McClintock wagged his Scotch head negatively. There are a thousand questions I'd like to ask you, but I sha'n't ask them. Eggs were procured for her, and she sat out the subsequent emotions and eloquence with the dignity becoming an injured lady of good family. More importantly, she had her wits. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards.
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