CHAPTER IV. Spurling and Marvel. . Now, however, as Gerald watched them, their heads were together and they were murmuring in French. She looked at him mournfully. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt. " She had no reason to doubt him. 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. "Get from under it, Jack!" vociferated Thames. "Rather a devil," groaned her son, "to have done this.
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