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. Her complexion had resisted the snow-glare wonderfully; her skin had only deepened its natural warmth a little under the Alpine sun. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. "It's more than I am," muttered Thames.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 11-09-2024 11:01:13
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