“I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. " The Wastrel advanced. She admitted her pleasure to Ramage. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders. This woman knows me—’ throwing the remark at Lucilla ‘—and that I am the daughter of Mary Remenham. “You think that this is all. 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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