’ At last. 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. "So she got away as far as this, eh? But where does she come in?" The doctor recounted that side of the tale. I know well that you are making a game with me. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. Take your pick, Mrs. Don’t, don’t say anything now, not anything.
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