For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. Fly! fly!" "Do not think of me, mother, but of yourself," cried Jack, in an agony of tears. "Tell me, what did they call you?" "Well, the old Kanaka cook used to call me the Golden One, but the natives called me the Dawn Pearl.
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