She felt it would save explanations if she did not state she had left her home and was looking for employment. “In Paris. 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. ” “Too much character, and too little sentiment,” he answered. She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation crept over her. He was safe, out of the beaten track, at last really comparable to the needle in the haystack. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. "So she got away as far as this, eh? But where does she come in?" The doctor recounted that side of the tale. ’ She eyed him, all her uncertainty surfacing. “Why can’t we propagate by sexless spores, as the ferns do? We restrict each other, we badger each other, friendship is poisoned and buried under it!.
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