I’m not sure if Janine cared. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. ’ That wonderful poster—is of you. His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints. 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. “You mustn’t talk any more,” he said, “but I want you to listen to me just for a moment.
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