A tarnish of constraint that had recently spread over her intercourse with Capes vanished again. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. 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. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. Thames did not attempt to offer him any consolation, for he was almost as much dejected.
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