’ ‘What about the lad?’ said the captain suddenly. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. Glancing around his prison, he began to think it possible he might effect an escape from it. A fortnight passed, then a month. “A woman wants a proper alliance with a man, a man who is better stuff than herself. Anything.
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