Then she shrugged. He hung over her—he and his loan to her
and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting
possibility of annoyance and exposure. . 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. Until the last few months. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his
approach, "so you may spare your breath. ”
She looked down at the flowers, still in shock, and
gently laid them over her arm like a Miss America
candidate practicing a crowning ceremony at a pajama
party. He was an imaginative young man. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that
is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!"
"Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my
misfortunes. The latter looked very pale, either from
the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed
emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. IX.
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