Filled as he was with conflicting emotions, any stretch of silence would be dangerous. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. F. 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. His face turned a dark crimson. " The elderly domestic bowed, took up the case, and retired. “I find it very hard to write this letter. I must tell somebody—and you would understand.
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