Their flitting hands were always touching. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. 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. Earles’ waiting-room who would march you straight off to a registrar’s office. That's a queer yarn. . I just like you, Mary, and we’ve had a lot of fun.
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