"The Wastrel seemed to take it all right. Can I give him any message for you?” “Thank you,” Anna answered. Listening on the dimlit landing, he saw Roding’s face muscles tighten. 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. ‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. ‘You’ve cause to be grateful to Gerald, then. His exploits and escapes are in every body's mouth. He made Hong-Kong at dusk: wet, hungry, and a bit groggy for the want of sleep; but he was in no wise discouraged.
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