"There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again. But the aunt seized her in her arms and rocked with her. “Those were good. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. But perhaps if people didn’t like clear, bright, healthy eyes—which is biologically understandable—they couldn’t like precious stones. We all get deceived sometimes. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. 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. I don’t think of you as a kid.
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