"When is he to suffer?" she demanded, fixing her large black eyes, which burnt with an insane gleam, upon him. " "True, and I shan't be easy till my turn arrives. 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. ‘Will you stop hedging? I’m hanged if I go on with this ridiculous cat and mouse game. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. Book. Don’t take revenge on him because I’ve wronged you.
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