\"This is my best friend, Mark. 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. Directly in range stood the strange young man, although he was at the far side of the loft. She knew that in her new rôle she was as likely as not to be a rank failure. How to hold her, how to keep her at his side; this was the problem with which he struggled. " "Enschede?—her father? What's happened?" McClintock sat down. The little pucker in her brows became more perceptible.
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