Among the commercial enticements McClintock found a real letter. Michelle looked at Lucy's feet, still in the ugly brown loafers she had worn since last year. Mother had forced Lucy to memorize the ingredients of the stews, fairly beating them into her, spanking her backside when she rebelled. 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. She ought to have written at once and told him exactly what had happened.
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