“I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. He resolved to judge for himself. And all to satisfy a succession of rapacious lightskirts. “Was I not strong enough when you flogged me for leaning over the oubliette? Who tells you these things? The physician, Sebastianus? Am I not sovereign enough to judge what is happening to my own body?\" She demanded. His hand went with an almost instinctive inquiry to his jawbone again. 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. If Miss Charvill should take it into her head to dash off on some foolish errand, go with her by all means.
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