It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. ‘At last,’ he cried, ‘I have found you!’ He would listen to nothing. I can’t love you. It would be a great matter, I must own, to bring Jonathan Wild to justice. " "The Dawn Pearl! Odd, but we white folks aren't half so poetical as the yellow or the black. " "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling.
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