But there was a face pressed to the glass. Do you hear?" "I do, Sir," replied Austin respectfully. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. 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. But they found him on the veranda when they returned from McClintock's that evening. “Mere sensuality.
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