Smith. A couple of gilt straight-backed chairs only. ’ ‘That is not your affair. ” “What?” “That’s the devil of it!” “Devil of what?. When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. ” To which the only possible reply seemed to be, “I’m not coming home. Again the chalky pallor spread even to her lips, her eyes became lit with the old terror. Lucy followed. At no time did she feel bodily or mental fatigue. Anna failed in her painting, our money was gone, and she was forced to earn her own living. Fifty sent home. ‘Wait! No time for that.
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