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’ Jack blinked at her. "See how glad he is!" His irony and displeasure subsided. She could not help but swoon a little. Her scream shook the windows of the sedan. “Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. 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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