Stanley, “just a moment. "Constance is yet living. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt. Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay; I'll summon the landlord—I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, I'll taste of the tap, To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. ’ ‘That depends, that does,’ said Trodger guardedly. ’ He slid slowly down and collapsed to the stone floor, fainting dead away. “I would give my life for you.
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