Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. The next moment, an exclamation was heard in the voice of Thames. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object. There is no need of your friend to kill you, imbecile, because I shall do so this minute. Rousing himself, he went to the door. 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. “How are those books any different from the witchcraft books?” “I dunno. Slowly, he drew back his head and looked into her face. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. I meant to give him a drubbing.
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