“Mr. " "That is what I wanted to know," said Ruth gravely. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. This obstacle removed, he thought he might now make the attempt. Gerald perhaps would know how to find him. 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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