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. “I see nothing of my sister,” she said. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. ” “Kitty is wonderful,” said another. I dined with a friend and went to the ‘Unusual. She slipped silently inside the door as he went inside a 12 putrid little bathroom to urinate. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. When she finished her last cadence, Carolyn and Thomas begged her to play encores. ‘Will that be all, ma’am?’ ‘Yes, yes. To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat.
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