All right! I’m off. Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch. Your boyfriend. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. It is no good going into that. 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. He looked at her guiltily. Anna hailed a bus. A pig, yes, a little. The crowning aspect of the incident, for her mind, was the discovery that he and her indiscretion with him no longer mattered very much.
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