\"Carry your books for you?\" He asked. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. ‘But on the off chance—slim, I grant you —that there is a spy down there, I don’t want to miss the fun. No; the future was not so dark; there was a bit of dawn visible. 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 have an aunt who is coming to live with me, and I do not intend to receive any visitors at all.
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