” He played it cool, but he had seen it in her face. On the way, he hired a chair with a couple of stout porters, and ordered them to follow him. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. 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 screamed at me through the rope and tape, it was no use.
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