"Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. The novel danger of the situation enthralled him. ’ Hilary’s jaw dropped open, and he stood stupidly staring, the nun’s clothing dangling from his hand. She could manage the major. Mom, this is Lucy Albert from school. 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.
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