He was never drunk in the accepted meaning of the word; rather he walked in a kind of stupefaction. Your career at the bar had given you a command of language, also a self-control not vouchsafed to us ordinary mortals. "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. "I'll soon free you from these bracelets. “Fighting goes with loads of its own baggage, John. 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.
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