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. “I looked for you on the way home from The Big Apple, where were you?” Lucy smiled. You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward. The picture might easily apply to The Tigress: outwardly disreputable, but richly and comfortably appointed below.
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