Spurling," rejoined Ireton; "we can taste the rum when he returns. Excuse me an instant while I dismiss this person. E below. On examination it proved to be a flat bar of iron, nearly a yard in length, and more than an inch square. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. 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. That added to his puzzle.
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