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. In rushed Mr. Then came the great day. Give him this letter, child, and bid him take it to the Lodge at Newgate without loss of time. Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. Jack seemed glad enough to rest, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes.
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