"If I were so, I should not be here," returned Trenchard. 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 might it have been?’ Mrs Sindlesham shook her head helplessly. So I dare say I was christened Jack. I am a man—of a sort of experience. She seemed to assume that it must certainly be something she had said. We mustn’t make it so. “Afterwards,” she said, “I should be perfectly content to have everything done for me.
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