Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. I stole away and walked to the railway station. "Who's there?" cried Rachel. If I'd been in the way, instead of Jonathan Wild, that accident wouldn't have happened. 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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