Their small talk continued. CHAPTER XXIX. “I murdered them, John. 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. Michelle found herself drowning in finals, and Lucy walked home alone the last week in obscurity and peace. “You’re very nice, both of you,” she said gently. Besides, revenge is sweetened by delay; and I indulge too freely in the passion to rob it of any of its zest. Wood.
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