"Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. She sat down by the paperrack with a general feeling of resemblance to Vivie Warren, and looked through the Morning Post and Standard and Telegraph, and afterward the half-penny sheets. He taught her about crowds, which men were the evilest, how to locate and dispose society’s garbage. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. And now, my angel, that I am acquainted with your sentiments on this subject, I shall readily fulfil a promise which I made to your lamented parent, whose loss I shall ever deplore.
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