By and by she heard the screen door. Every care had been taken of it, as well as of himself, by the humane inmates of the house in which he had sought shelter. You Americans laugh at our custom of honouring our ancestors, our many-times great grandfathers. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. 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. She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. "But, though the storm has spared him, I will not.
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