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. "What has put it into your head that your son yet lives?" he asked. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. Gerald watched her vanish into the darkness, unusually incensed. It was so easy to forget the imminent threats of being discovered during times of peace.
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