’ Reminiscence made him smile. Wood. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. All the money he earned—serving McClintock and the muse—could be laid away. ’ Gerald let out a sigh both relieved and satisfied and repeated the name.
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