Anna nodded as she briskly crossed the pavement. “That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day. We were two people with a craving. ‘I was just looking the place over when I heard you calling out. 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. To many in that crowded solitude it came as an extraordinary relief.
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