‘And I do not know why you are so polite, when you have been bad to me last night, and have taken my dagger. 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. I hear the sound of his horse's feet in the yard.
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