“And somehow or other,” she added, after a long interval, “I must pay Mr. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. Sir Rowland waved his hand, and the attendant withdrew. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise.
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