‘But what way, Emile?’ ‘Your family, mademoiselle, the family of your father. Jonathan Wild must have stolen it from her. But your cracked skull is by no means a pleasing spectacle. ‘Do not tell me he has escaped. 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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