“I had those beautiful roses from you on my first night, and a tiny little note but no address. When he beheld Jack he uttered a deep groan. Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered. ” She whispered to him. 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. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days. ” Michelle looked at her friend in suspicious awe.
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