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You don’t know, Anna, but when one is in danger one realizes that the— the other side of the line is Hell. ‘I’ll get the key,’ said Roding, turning abruptly. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said. “I love some one else. After all, it came to him suddenly as a harsh discovery that she might be in a sense regarded as grownup. “I do mean that,” she declared. 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. You shall tell me if I am wrong. Fairbanks, AK, 99712.
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