" "I must trouble you to hold the child, then, for a minute, while I run up to the garret, where I've hidden it for safety," said Mrs. She pulled herself together and put her eye to the eye-piece. 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. Couldn’t face me with what he’d done, the miserable blackguard. She even touched lightly on her father’s unreasonableness.
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