“I don’t understand. ‘I am nine-and-twenty,’ he answered. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. ‘And now,’ he said, drawing Madame to the seat, and contriving to sit close enough that his anatomy touched hers at several points, ‘let us talk about you, madame. 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. She had told Emile. A door, it may be remembered, opened from Wild's dwelling into this yard. The light of memory flashed in the man’s face. Only first you must find the lantern and light it again and leave it here, near the door, for me to find. Anna lied to you, I lied to you. Sheppard," replied Winifred, advancing.
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