"Dawn Pearl!… come here!" She moved to the side of the bed. 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. The girl was flushed with excitement, bright-eyed, and braced for a struggle; her aunt had never seen her looking so fine or so pretty. ‘But a week and some days,’ answered Valade. Here he was hotly pursued.
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