” “Why not?” She turned on him. "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, in a tone of the bitterest anguish. ” Lucy said. "You mean you were just sorry for him?" "As I would be for any human being in pain. 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. "Oh, lud! what's that?" exclaimed a female voice, from an adjoining room.
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