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. But the possible attitude of her father she had still to face. ’ ‘Hang it, Melusine!’ Losing patience, Gerald seized her by the arms. Jackson took an accurate survey of the room with his one eye, Mr. “Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters.
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