‘He don’t mean you no harm. ’ Lucilla Froxfield laughed gaily. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. ” On the inside she felt her muscles loosen with relief. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him.
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