“I wonder,” she said, “how much you care. ” “Personally,” he went on, “I must confess to a great disappointment. The stage manager reappeared presently, and made a speech. 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. Hugging him in the beautiful dress in front of the teenagers was strangely soothing to her. “I am so very, very sorry. I—well, I lost my temper.
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