She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. He bore it as long as he could, watching all the time with fascinated eyes Annabel moving gracefully about amongst her guests, always gay, with a smile and a whisper for nearly everybody. It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of arranging the hair. The Dawn Pearl; how well they had named her! The pearl without price—his and not his! He took her arm and drew it under his; and together they went down the veranda steps. "In favour of my son. She held up the lamp. All the world before you, all the ologies.
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