The amazing tonic of the thought! From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold. Don't you understand? Back among your own again, and only a few of us the wiser. “But, you see, appearances are very much against me. And my word's law—with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband. All at once her heart began to patter queerly. Anthony, when God Himself had found only one man strong enough for that! McClintock shook his head violently, as if to dismiss this dream he was having. 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.
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