And what did she do? Not only did she cut his hand in her rage, but she refused to let him help her, and then she ran away from him. 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. They bounced without merriment over bumpy Roman roads, and by the time they arrived she was extremely nauseous. "What's that?" demanded McClintock.
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