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Above her head
was an aura of white fire. 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. The windows were
still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. ”
He paused, and went on, after a keen look at her:
“I had rather gossip to a really intelligent girl than to any man alive. Where is he, Sir? Can I see him?"
"No, that you can't," answered Mrs. ’
‘Also madame his wife—’
Charvill’s gorge rose. She approached this field with her usual liveliness of
apprehension.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 01-07-2024 02:09:21