Ann Veronica ignored her friend’s confusion. “You really couldn’t ride in it,” he said, deprecatingly. It had been discussed in silence. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. He would pick a random member of the ever-shifting household for the sake of example. . Diane suggested to him that he retire early, and he did so agreeably, halfknowing it to be an order. He meditated, and began a new paragraph. . 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 was then that the young man entered his thought with some permanency: because there was no apparent reason for his joining the tour, since from the beginning he had shown no interest in anything. " "Bah!" ejaculated Marvel, gruffly.
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