Miss Stanley hesitated, and took first one and then another of the constituents of this costume off its peg and surveyed it. Capes bore a face of infinite perplexity. ‘It needs not that you tell me. You have shown an almost feverish anxiety to eliminate from your personal appearance all that reminded me of you —when we first met. 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 tucked her stick under her arm and re-read Manning’s letter.
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