" There was another pause. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. He understood. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. 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. “Really!” said Mr. CHAPTER XVIII.
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