“It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends. I thank God for the beauty you love and the faults you love. While this took place, while Quilt thundered at the inner door, and Jack drew back the bolts of the outer, a deep, manly voice was heard chanting—as if in contempt of the general uproar—the following strain:— With pipe and punch upon the board, And smiling nymphs around us; No tavern could more mirth afford Than old Saint Giles's round-house! The round-house! the round-house! The jolly—jolly round-house! "The jolly, jolly round-house!" chorussed Sheppard, as the last bar yielded to his efforts. Destruction everywhere marked its course. She thought about just asking him to take 116 her to his place and get it over with, but she reconsidered and decided to attempt to get to know him better. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. But Jack was too well versed in the geography of the place to attempt either of them.
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