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. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. ” “An appetite like yours,” he said resignedly, “is fatal to all sentiment. James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. Then she had a baby and became as old as any really grown-up person, or older, and very dull.
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