" The walls appeared to rock; bulging shadows reached out; the candle flames became mocking eyes; and the blood drummed thunderously in Spurlock's ears. 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 did he say?” “What does any one say to an invitation to dinner point-blank? One tries to collect one’s wits. ’ ‘Get rid of the wench,’ Roding said brutally.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQwLjI1Mi4xOTIgLSAwMi0wNi0yMDI0IDEyOjA1OjA3IC0gMTQ2MTE1MjkwOQ==
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