He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. In any place her beauty would have been an uncommon thing. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. 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. So that the thought of Ann Veronica up-stairs had been extremely painful for her through all the silent dinner-time that night. Spurlock to keep to the bungalow until the rogue goes back to Copeley's. ” “I thought so,” Courtlaw said. Ann Veronica was much impressed by a mighty trying on and altering and fussing about Alice’s “things”—Alice was being re-costumed from garret to cellar, with a walking-dress and walking-boots to measure, and a bride’s costume of the most ravishing description, and stockings and such like beyond the dreams of avarice—and a constant and increasing dripping into the house of irrelevant remarkable objects, such as— Real lace bedspread; Gilt travelling clock; Ornamental pewter plaque; Salad bowl (silver mounted) and servers; Madgett’s “English Poets” (twelve volumes), bound purple morocco; Etc.
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