He seemed to charge her with the ruin of their situation. 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. Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. But no more of that. And he, her lawful husband, dared not go to her and console her! Accursed—all of them— Enschede, Ruth, and himself.
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