Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. You’re a good friend. The Idle Apprentice. 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. Whatever she does is minimized. Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell. He did like her, anyhow; he was always pleased to be with her.
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