The doctor's smile is singular; there is no other smile that reaches the same level. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. She turned the television off. ‘It had better not be, by God,’ had barked Captain Hilary Roding. That night in his den he smoked many pipes. She knew now the supreme human energy which sent men to hell or carried them to their earthly heights. 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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