” “I know—” said Ramage, with sympathy. And afterwards! Sir John drew his cigar from his lips, and looked upwards where the white-lights flashed strangely amongst the deep cool green of the lime-trees. ’ Lucilla sat up. ‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. ‘And it is not only a question of her identity, but a matter of her life as well. 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. Do you remember what I said when you took me at the Mint four days ago? I told you my turn would come.
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