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. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. You’re like some splendid Princess in Exile in these Dreadful Dingy apartments!” “I’m afraid I’m anything but a Princess when it comes to earning a salary,” said Ann Veronica. You can’t do without an agent, and there’s no one can run you better than I can. But Jack eluded their grasp.
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