’ ‘Alas. "I mean to have no one but yourself in it. Where Saint Giles' church stands, once a lazar-house stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a vessel of wood; A broad-bottom'd bowl, from which all the fine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strong beer, Their spirits to cheer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! II. " "Ay—ay," laughed Jonathan. They parked a block away from Michelle’s house in the opposite direction of where the Beck’s lived. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room.
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