CHAPTER XVI Ah cum began to worry. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. “These are the playgrounds of life. The windows of these rooms were obscured with draperies, their floors a carpet patchwork; the china ornaments on their mantels were of a class apart. “In a sense—yes. ‘To see Charvill. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell.
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