Lucy sat in the back seat as the trio sped through intersections in the old sedan. ” He scarcely saw her face again. He had nothing more to say either to her or to Spurlock. 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. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. "I knew it. Nobody knows what his real name is, but he's a Hollander. E.
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