"To-night you shall be my wedded wife. “I’ve thought about it. “I do not understand. ‘She’s wearing a lightskirt’s clothing?’ ‘Nothing obviously so, I assure you. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. 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. She was leaning over him and he smelled her like he had never smelled anyone before.
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