At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. 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. He’s been near it once or twice already. Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s. Ennison roused himself with an effort, took a long drink from his whisky and soda, and lit a cigarette. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid. You go cheer him up.
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