“It is part of the irony of life,” he said. “For me there is no second turn. The charm of innocence breathes around her, as fragrance is diffused by the flower, sanctifying her lightest thought and action, and shielding her, like a spell, from the approach of evil. So frightful, indeed, were the ravages of this malady, to which debtors and felons were alike exposed, that its miserable victims were frequently carried out by cart-loads, and thrown into a pit in the burial-ground of Christ-church, without ceremony. Never really thought about Him—people don’t. Capes looked at one and not over one, spoke to one, treated one as a visible concrete fact. I couldn't accept anything from you.
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