All that I regret are the wasted years, and I am not sure that I regret them. 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. " "You are heiress to the Trenchard property," rejoined Jonathan, "one of the largest estates in Lancashire. “Everything will follow,” she said. He whispered in her ear. ‘Didn’t mean to say that.
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