The
lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam
commandeered from the Victoria. “Bother it all!” she swore. While this took place, while Quilt thundered at the inner door, and Jack drew
back the bolts of the outer, a deep, manly voice was heard chanting—as if in
contempt of the general uproar—the following strain:—
With pipe and punch upon the board,
And smiling nymphs around us;
No tavern could more mirth afford
Than old Saint Giles's round-house!
The round-house! the round-house!
The jolly—jolly round-house!
"The jolly, jolly round-house!" chorussed Sheppard, as the last bar yielded to his
efforts. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t
stand it?”
He regarded her as though this was a new idea. They were just nice. "When a man reaches the lowest scale through drink,
we call him a beachcomber. It could not go on much longer, her luck. She was to see
Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt
assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all. ’
‘Indeed?’ Gerald said politely.
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This video was uploaded to flood-rescue.com on 02-07-2024 21:18:38