" The Wastrel rushed. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply. On regaining his breath, he began to consider whither chance had led him; and, rubbing his eyes to clear his sight, he perceived a sombre pile, with a lofty tower and broad roof, immediately in front of him. “Why?” He inquired. . She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. I must tell somebody—and you would understand. And then suddenly—a relief.
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