The door leaned inward. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. I even offered him back the half interest he had sold to me. It had seemed to her that life might be very good indeed with his kindliness and sacrifice about her. There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. But then—Oh! Madam, there are moments—moments of darkness, which overshadow a whole existence—in the lives of the poor houseless wretches who traverse the streets, when reason is well-nigh benighted; when the horrible promptings of despair can, alone, be listened to; and when vice itself assumes the aspect of virtue.
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