A knot of three policemen in conflict with her staggered toward Ann Veronica’s attendants and distracted their attention. 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. "Si—lence!" vociferated Charcam, laying great emphasis on the last syllable. Old saltwater was right.
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