Her tone should have warned him, but he was too much in earnest to regard 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. Luckily I’m not. Jonathan stepped behind a curtain. After passing Tottenham Court Road, very few houses were to be seen on the right hand, opposite Wardour Street it was open country.
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