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. "The devil you have!" thundered a voice from behind, that filled the apprentice with dismay. But what are you doing here?” “Old Père Runeval met me on your doorstep, and he would not let me go. “Time for my Patience,” she said. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. “So she must have had you fairly young, right?” Lucy nodded again.
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