“Lucy, that’s horrible. "And had you been the worst scoundrel unhung, I'd have seen to it that you had the same care, the same chance. There would be ultimate misery, but it would be needless cruelty to give her a push toward it. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. 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. I heard from David about you only this morning. As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door. They were bathing in the stream. The pistol, it was not loaded. “One has to be so careful of one’s friends and acquaintances,” he remarked, by way of transition. She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. A sense of loss was amongst us. She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love.
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This video was uploaded to woodsdrivingschool.com on 18-09-2024 13:02:08
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