“NOW!” said Ann Veronica. “Queer letters he writes,” she said. "What do you mean by that, sirrah?" cried Wood, reddening with anger. 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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