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Raising the bowl in his right hand, Jack glanced towards the balcony, in which the group of ladies were seated, and begged to drink their healths; he then turned to Kneebone and the others, who extended their hands towards him, and raised it to his lips. “Yes. Petals!. I don’t understand the workings of a gentleman’s mind. In the beginning was afraid; but after the first several cases, I had only pity. ” Courtlaw seemed about to say something. 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. Bu buluşma, ikisi için başka bir dönüm noktasıydı. “Well, I don’t think you told him as much as that, did you?” Lady Lescelles asked. She shuddered.
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