“Take my advice,” he said hoarsely. Oh! and love—love! We’ve had so splendid a time, and fought our fight and won. ‘Oh! little Vee!’ he cried, ‘little Vee!’ and put his face between his hands and sat still for a long time before he broke out again. At last I tried a dramatic agent, and got on the music hall stage. He kissed her cheek. I quickly ingratiated myself to Gianfrancesco, playing on his insecurities, drawing from his need for more and more power. 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. “Another young woman, I suppose,” he said, “who knows better than her Maker about her place in the world. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened. He rang the doorbell, even though she had already cracked the door for him.
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