The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents. She hoped fervently that Martin had not divulged his crush to Brown. With trembling fingers she opened the post-bag. But at least it gave her more time. The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow. 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. 3.
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