‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least. The man, who was just able to move, pointed towards Giltspur-street. It’s a sort of home-leaving instinct. I shall always be kind to him; I sha'n't bait him. "Well, you never can tell," he continued, lamely. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul.
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