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. Why should God give particular attention to such a prayer, when He had ignored all others? Certainly there was a trap somewhere. “Frightful lot of things aren’t settled,” said Ann Veronica. Before you have lived—” He became darkly prophetic. "So long as it is open and above board. The Night-Cellar. Gianfrancesco had told her about it, how he had played in it as a child with his brothers. How could she tell him what indeed already began to puzzle herself, why she had borrowed that money at all? The plain fact was that she had grabbed a bait.
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