“Good God!” he exclaimed. " "I do not doubt it," retorted Winifred, scornfully; "because I attach credit neither to one nor the other. The hope that had been suddenly kindled in the youth's bosom was as suddenly extinguished. 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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