He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. Cursed him for his devotion that had made him come back for her, only to get himself shot by the fiendish Gosse. Wood had retired to his own room, where he had just summoned Thames. 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. I want to be myself. Rousing himself, he went to the door. Instinct had forced her to create something out of rags to satisfy a mysterious craving.
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