“My dear Anna,” he answered. "The Dutchman was right, after all. 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. "But to the point," continued Wild, unconscious of the peril in which the remark had placed him,—"to the point. The light!—the light!" Astounded at his cries, Thames sprang towards him. Ann Veronica decided to be more explicit.
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