She seemed to assume that it must certainly be something she had said. 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. ‘Scream and you are dead,’ he snapped, and released her mouth so that he might open the door. He saw the expression on the girl's face and understood what it signified, that it was the reflected pattern of his own. Loving was better than that. He pulsed and thrust as he released himself into her body. The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms.
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