I’ll do it. “What you have done. Kneebone took his leave. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. ’ ‘No, miss,’ cut in Kimble. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. Down on me luck, I was, and they took me in. 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. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over.
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