He was apt to play so many games, she was afraid she might have misunderstood. This morning his entourage (as he jestingly called it) consisted of the girl, two spinsters (Prudence and Angelina Jedson), prim and doubtful of the world, and the young man who appeared to be considerably the worse for the alcohol he had consumed. “Can you spare me a moment?” he asked. All we do is for your good. But I'll tell e'e what we might do——" The young man heard no more. ‘Bête. They were silent for a time. Have you anything to tell me before you go?” Annabel laughed lightly. 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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