“You will come back, won’t you?” He nodded cheerfully. She addresses you as the Flower of the Lotus, as the Resplendent Moonbeam. Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. The G. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. 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. But not so much a pig as that man. "We won't have any trouble understanding each other; same language. But your cracked skull is by no means a pleasing spectacle. " [Illustration: Distinctive Pictures Corporation. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her.
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