Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips. ” “There was no need for such heroism,” Annabel said coldly. . But sadly, at Lullingstone we are too far off the coast to be of use. 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. “The surgeon’s knife is surely a kindly weapon,” she declared.
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