13 with a latchkey went humming lightly up to her room. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. 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. “Molly and you settled about the rooms. If you don’t think it would be a social outrage, perhaps I might walk with you to your railway station.
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