"The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. Making up a similar story to that which he had told the old woman, he said he wanted to purchase a hammer and a file. She wanted to scream, but there was no one to scream for. 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. Disappointment flickered in Gerald’s chest, and he did not hesitate to speak his mind, unable to help a reproachful note. “Annabel at last,” he shouted.
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