" He laughed and followed her into the hotel. The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites. Hurled over the sides of the skiff, the ruffian speedily found a watery grave. Anna glanced into her sister’s face, and rose to her feet. She refused to eat. The way it had happened was stupid, absurd. . The door leaned inward. She leaned back in the corner of the cab with a little sigh of relief. 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. He looked at her with a certain curiosity. Clotilde’s stunning green eyes were reflected in the gazes of the tender young children, but their faces had been hollow and sunken, their hair matted, and their clothing in bad need of repair.
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