“That’s not working so well for you, is it?” She looked at him sheepishly, bringing a Kleenex out of her pocket to wipe away the excess. . He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. “It will spoil your life. On the stranger's appearance, she was seated near the window busily occupied with her needle. Profligate women are never reclaimed. Great sport, eh? To haul them back from the ragged edge. Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so. “Fortunately I believe that the relationship is not generally known.
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