She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. 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. Funny codgers, aren't they?" he said. For the present the desire to fly was gone. It would be protective; it would with age turn to silver unnoticeably.
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