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” Lucy said. 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. "Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell. "Trenchard," he muttered; "Aliva Trenchard—they were right, then, as to the name. ” 129 She smiled wider. “Oh, theories! Being in love is a fact. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. The house was full of aunts, uncles, and cousins meandering about, stuffed until their seams and zippers were bursting. He drew her closer. Not only that, but he is here in London.
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