It would not have interested him in the least to learn that the tub ran on two powers—wind and oil. Then he stood up and repeated it again. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. Come back with me to-night. I do swear. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly.
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