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. She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight. In the present instance she did not want any interference; she did not want the doctor's wisdom to edge in between these two young fools and spoil the drama. Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street. “You might have given me a chance, anyway. His blood would be sweet with it. Now how in the world was he to get rid of the husband? His luck was in. I don’t understand the workings of a gentleman’s mind. ” She stopped short, full of things un-said. So equipped, she proposed to set up a separate establishment in the world.
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