” “I suppose all men,” said Ann Veronica, in a tone of detached criticism, “get some such entanglement. Wood; but they never come now. Can it ever be so good again?” Ann Veronica put out a firm hand and squeezed his arm. ’ Gerald grinned. . Leave the means to me. 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. She answered him with another kiss, long and deep.
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