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. Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would leave. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. " "I know not how to act," exclaimed Jack, almost driven to desperation.
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