Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. There’s plenty to be got out of life in a decent sort of way. “They seem smaller, you know, even physically smaller,” she said. But then—Oh! Madam, there are moments—moments of darkness, which overshadow a whole existence—in the lives of the poor houseless wretches who traverse the streets, when reason is well-nigh benighted; when the horrible promptings of despair can, alone, be listened to; and when vice itself assumes the aspect of virtue. Part 6 When Ann Veronica reached her little bed-sitting-room again, every nerve in her body was quivering with shame and self-disgust. ’ ‘But he gives them to me.
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