"I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. He glanced at the ruins of his High Priestess. She moaned as his hands explored her body, fingers crushing against her panties under her skirt. "I strangled him—ha! ha! ha!—strangled him while he was at my breast—ha! ha!"—And then with a sudden and fearful change of look, she added, "That's what has driven me mad, I killed my child to save him from the gallows—oh! oh! One man hanged in a family is enough. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them. Her husband quickly joined the fray, making her giggle and laugh. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. I want you to turn me. She wanted his attention, but so did everyone else. 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. like rabies.
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