How you dress when you're loafing will be no concern of mine; but fresh twill or Shantung, when you dine with me, collar and tie. They hissed me!” “Beasts!” he muttered. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. He said nothing, even though it was not raining.
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