"I'll tell you all about it presently. Lucy felt a finger tap her on the bra strap as she observed Michelle chatting with yet another passing group of people. 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. “He is a sad blunderer. ‘He could have little comfort there, indeed. But now it’s beads by the cask—like the hold of a West African trader.
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