Grasping it firmly with both hands, he quickly wrenched if from the stones in which it was mortised, and leapt to the ground. Her eyes followed him. "Why, so it is," she said, in mock astonishment. And you talk like that! What the devil have you been up to, to land in this bog?" It was a cast at random. “The life of a private secretary is positively one of slavery. But she was not sure just how to reach it. 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.
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