” “Oh! but you ARE splendid and open and fearless! As if I couldn’t allow! What are all these little things? Nothing! Nothing! You can’t sully yourself. " "Very well, Sir," replied Sheppard. ” “It is for your good—your good only I am thinking,” he declared. 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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