‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. ’ ‘Indeed, I’m beginning to think so,’ he said ruefully. “Of course. He gently took the roses from her and laid them on the pillow. His face was very serious. . 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. ‘Signed by a priest at Le Havre, so it must be true.
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