It had been a part of the vast domain of the servants in the house’s earlier incarnation. " "Mine is Howard Spurlock. “The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked. 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. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. With this view, he suffered him to pass on. When she came to herself, she found that her brother had quitted the room, leaving her to the care of a female attendant.
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