On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. 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. I was reduced to 170 a fool, for there were many pretty women from all walks of life in that teeming city. ‘I do not understand you. Anyhow he confessed that he was a fraud. It was the one that she had sworn she’d throw out, if only Julian had not liked it so much. But now Ann Veronica knew what was the matter with her. And, setting down the link, he proceeded deliberately to untie his cravat.
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