‘You are outrageous. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. I worshipped women long before I found any woman I might ever hope to worship. ‘Only you made me lose my temper, and—’ ‘I made you do so? Pah!’ Gerald at last succeeded in ripping the handkerchief from her grasp, and swiftly held it to her neck, oblivious to her now bloodied fingers clawing at his hand. "Lor' ha' mussy, Sir!—how you do talk," said the woman; "this is no robber, I'm sure. " "It is too late," returned Jack, sullenly; "I can't be honest if I would. His safety must be looked to. Playing became a way of escape.
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