Stanley regarded his neighbor’s clean-shaven face almost warily. ’ ‘Then you will not be disappointed. Very quietly, he added, “Oh Lucia, I’m sorry. Wood went on fuming, and the trio went on laughing for some minutes, nobody knew why or wherefore, until the party was increased by Mr. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. 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 night in Paris I saw on the bills ‘Fatal Motor Accidents.
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