‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. I'm burning up. Then he put the paper by. "Was there any other woman back there in the States?" "Nary a female. 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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