" "Write him," urged Spurlock, finding speech. " The Wastrel advanced. ‘Prudence? This name I have heard it spoken. Good-looking girl. After that time nothing shall save you. ” They went on for a time without another word. As time wore on, and they did not return, Mr. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face.
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