It was a mad half-hour. What right had a young woman to possess the scarring and intimate knowledge of that dreg of human society, the beachcomber? CHAPTER II Ah Cum lived at No. But it’s only now I’m able to do it. Mind, when we were all growed up, it were different. They seldom arrive on the beach. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. One has to be so careful. That might happen on her birthday—in August. “I’m so glad my Mom’s letting me go out tonight.
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