You must forgive the poet’s license I take. " He did not reply. 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. A vast indifference settled down upon him. He was a business man, pure and simple, his eyes were fastened always upon the practical side of life. It’s my choice, Lucy. “You’re getting too old to put things off, John.
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