Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. “Don’t think that I have been playing the spy upon you,” he continued. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. Mike offered twice to beat John up, but Lucy talked him out of it much to his disappointment. He had done this a dozen times on the way from his office. Out of an old family album: here was the very comparison that had eluded him. When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. Norris, she revived a little.
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