" And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. ‘Oh, Lord,’ muttered Gerald, going instantly to her aid. Meanwhile, the executioner had attached strong cords to his ankles and wrists, and fastened them tightly to the iron rings. “Please play something for us,” Carol asked, her eyes aglow. “By Jove!” he broke out, “one tries to take a serious, sober view. ‘You do not dare look in my clothes. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. ” He was intrigued. At length, however, she threw herself off; and Jack carefully guiding the rope she landed in safety. “Why?” he asked, suavely. . . ” She dropped back into a crouching attitude and began to weep.
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