A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. “Is that a challenge?” She shrugged her shoulders, all ablaze with jewels. A kind but hard looking female officer named Rose took her into a room and sat her down at a small wooden table. CHAPTER VIII. 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. They both listened intently. I’ve got to run to get to my Study Hall.
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