" So saying, he closed the lantern. It was supposed he was drowned in crossing the river, as his body had never been found. For yonder went the loneliest man in all God's unhappy world. It must be somewhere hereabouts. 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. Gerald looked at it, then at her face. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. "Sit down, fool!" "Jack," said Kneebone, who had been considerably interested by the foregoing scene, "are these regrets for your past life sincere?" "Suppose them so," rejoined Jack, "what then?" "Nothing—nothing," stammered Kneebone, his prudence getting the better of his sympathy. “I am going,” she said grimly, with three hairpins in her mouth.
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