" "Alas! that one so highly born should submit to such a degradation?" groaned the knight. 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. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. " "I'm afraid I don't understand. ” “I wasn’t jesting,” said Capes, abruptly.
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