‘But on the off chance—slim, I grant you —that there is a spy down there, I don’t want to miss the fun. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. 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. They got in my mouth. The completest capitulation would not wipe out that trouble. It’s—it’s a social difference. She accepted his rejoinder with a brief nod.
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