I bound him up good and tight, stuffed his mouth with a length of rope, taped it shut. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. 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. She deserves what has befallen her. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. "Stop!" groaned Blueskin. Rot, no doubt; but we can’t alter it.
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