That is my way, my dear. " "Two can play at that game, my blood," replied Sheppard, rising, and putting himself into a posture of defence. 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. They got on wonderfully well together. "I am glad you think that," she replied.
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