Well one night, some of us saw him, or thought we saw him, at a café dining with ‘Alcide,’—as a matter of fact, it seems that it was her sister. “You shall go,” he declared. The back of the house had been the Alps for climbing, and the shrubs in front of it a Terai. I sometimes laid away my father's clothes in his trunk. 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.
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