“I suppose I shall have to write an answer. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. ‘But tell me this instead. He proposed, he wanted to possess her! He loved her. Not far from the entrance, on the left, was a sort of screen, or partition-wall, reaching from the floor to the ceiling, formed of thick oaken planks riveted together by iron bolts, and studded with broad-headed nails. ’ For a moment he looked daunted. “But about last night.
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