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In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. \" \"Hi, I'm Lucy Albert. 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. He must have married when he was quite a young man. "I am not, by Heaven!" replied Sheppard, firmly. "Shir Rowland Trenchard's affair— eh?" "That's it," rejoined Jonathan; "I expect him here every minute. There was an eerie sense of brooding menace about an uninhabited establishment.
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