He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. What else was there lurked in shadows and deep places; if in some mood of reverie it came out into the light, it was presently overwhelmed and hustled back again into hiding. “Annabel?” he exclaimed. " "The Dawn Pearl! Odd, but we white folks aren't half so poetical as the yellow or the black.
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