He did not love Ruth. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. ‘I do not understand you. Nobody can trust you. Well, that’s the situation. 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. "What of her?" exclaimed Jack, starting up. "Well that's no reason why he should treat your ladyship so shamefully, I'm sure. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation.
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