It is to take place to-night. The entire place was a masterpiece of wooden carving, a design of interleaving carried throughout. 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. Annabel turned on the electric light and made her way into the sitting-room. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. “I am afraid,” she said, “that he must have a skeleton key to these rooms. She never expected to get her ladyship home alive. I know now what it is to be an abandoned female.
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