For a moment she thought of saying yes, and then filled with shame. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. "If I could work as fast as you, I might afford to be as idle. . I bear the marks of some of them about me still," he continued, taking off his wig, and laying bare a bald skull, covered with cicatrices and plates of silver.
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