He will wish to have his fears laid to rest. “I have a message from your sister. His expression altered. Eight per cent. Kneebone nodded. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. 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. ‘Quite mad, nuns are.
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