He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. Montague Hill. . " "I hope not," replied Wild. They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path.
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