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. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. And, without another word, he seized the table with both hands, and upset it; scattering plates, dishes, bottles, jugs, and glasses far and wide. He—he has rather a poor opinion of his contemporaries. ‘But then again, possibly not. The only difference between the officers of Newgate and their brethren was, that they had enormous bunches of keys at their girdles, while the latter had left their keys at home. I want to give myself to you.
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