As to his mother, I've no pity for her. "Is it wrong, then, to surrender to good
impulses?"
"In the present instance, yes. How I wish I
might meet this delightful mystery lady of yours. Each of my scholars thinks it his own shirt. Wood, softening her asperity. Until two hours ago she was as contented and as
happy as a linnet. But for him she might have been
alive and happy. “Do you play an instrument?”
“I play the fiddle sometimes. We were properly married, and the certificate
is at my lawyer’s. Somebody may
be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring
her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. There MULSACK and SWIFTNECK, both prigs from their birth,
OLD MOB and TOM COX took their last draught on earth:
There RANDAL, and SHORTER, and WHITNEY pulled up,
And jolly JACK JOYCE drank his finishing cup!
For a can of ale calms,
A highwayman's qualms,
And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms
And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles
So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles!
"Singing's dry work," observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at the bottle. But he did not follow on with the thought.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 08-07-2024 21:33:59