“I cannot reason with you,” he said at last wearily. He went on with intense urgency. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. "Dog!" thundered Sheppard, putting the muzzle of the pistol so close to the janizary's ear, that the touch of the cold iron made him start, "don't you know me?" "Blood and thunder!" exclaimed Quilt, opening his eyes with astonishment.
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