In the genuinely dissipated face there was always a suggestion of slyness in ambush, peeping out of the wrinkles around the eyes and the lips. 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. What was the matter with Spurlock that was to keep him in bed three or four weeks? He would dig that out of the hotel manager. It hadn’t even been called Kentucky back then when the Shawnee still hunted deer over mossy hills and the smoke from their fires could still inspire terror.
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This video was uploaded to freechristian.online on 01-07-2024 17:27:11
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