His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints. Someone was coming out of the house. 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. “Isn’t there a brother to kick him?” “Mere satisfaction,” reflected Ogilvy. " "They are useless," she returned. “Shopman. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself.
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