’ ‘You, perhaps?’ she flung at him furiously, stepping out from behind the desk. ‘Else she would not have married that ne’er-do-well only because Jarvis proposed him to her. Where the robber may cheer His spirit with beer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! III. “I will MAKE you love me! Until he has faded—faded into a memory.
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