These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. As he passed along the main thoroughfare, he heard his own name pronounced, and found that it was a hawker, crying a penny history of his escapes. 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. Annabel! Annabel!” His voice became a shriek. It isn't for their sakes, it's for your own.
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