" "But how in the Lord's name was she brought up? There's a queer story back of this somewhere. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. How on earth does it concern you?” Annabel laughed hardly. I had a hunch. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. 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. Mere hangers on.
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