It is positively hateful to think of it. “You know,” he went on, “this doesn’t seem to me to end anything. " "For shame, Mr. 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. I’ll do it. But he told me this much, that no matter how far Mr. Do you know this, Sir?" he added, taking a key from his pocket. By chance I went to one who had known you in Paris.
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