E. The entrance was barred against them; and they had the additional mortification of hearing Sheppard's loud laughter at their discomfiture. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. Empty, silly, coarse brutes. 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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