You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. Anywhere! Moonlight and music—pleasing, you know, but quite unnecessary. Martin proceeded to grab Lucy by the shoulders and air-kiss both of her cheeks teasingly. So, instead, they talked of dancing and what it might mean in a human life. But you must allow me to observe, my good Sir, that you're wholly in the wrong respecting my friend. 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. “Why will you not be sensible? Go back to your old life and your old friends, and forget all about Paris and this absurd delusion of yours.
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