He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. ‘You make me talk, you make me talk. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. " "You're not going to betray me!" cried Jack, in alarm. That turned her mind to the more generalized aspects of her perplexities again. 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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