I can’t even carry a tune with a bucket. Let’s face it, she hates Missy’s guts. Gerald kicked the panelled wall in frustration. He became a little more personal and intimate. 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. CHAPTER XIV.
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