Presently McClintock came in. The doors of several of the wards were thrown open for these parties, and as Jack passed, he could not help glancing at the wretched inmates. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. "Won't you sit down?" "I beg your pardon! Come into the consultation office"; and the doctor led the way. The fresh air, which blew in his face, greatly revived him.
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