Anna and her escort exchanged glances. They were silent for a time. But calmer thoughts quickly succeeded. 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. I know something about men. "There's a young woman. “Look, dear,” she said presently, “you can put the ten on the Jack. It's almost worth while being sent to prison to have the pleasure of escaping. You'd be coming up to Hong-Kong, but you'd be cutting out Canton.
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