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. The pouting cherry lips were slightly parted and the very faintest of panting breaths, together with the quick rise and fall of an alluring bosom, betrayed her fear. Anna passed serenely out. " "Don't go near him, dear Thames," said Winifred; "he may have some ill intention. She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below.
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