“Miss Ellicot!” Brendon echoed. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. The thought of going back!—the thought of the unknown out there!—" with a tragic gesture toward the east. 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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