At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. "There's only one way out of the muddle, that I can see. "I think you're all bewitched," she cried. "Well, well; look who's here!" cried Spurlock. ‘Not in the open street. . “Where to?” he asked, as the hansom drove up. 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.
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