They will say that it was murder. I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up. “I was never at any such dinner, and I am quite sure that I do not know you. . “If I was the world I think I should have put down a crimson carpet, and asked you to say what you wanted, and generally walk over me. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. 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. " "Ah!" shrieked Lady Trafford.
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