Both Spurlock and McClintock stood by their chairs until she was gone. And if he won’t—” But she did not give even unspoken words to the alternative at that time. . For a time Ann Veronica went on her way gauging the quality of sordid streets. 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.
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