It was not without considerable demur and delay on the part of Sharples that the carpenter and his companion could gain admittance to the round-house. Thought she was a nun at first. He went on with his song, accompanying it with the most ridiculous grimaces: "When years were gone by, she began to rue Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!) 'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she, 'But where is my gallant of high degree? Where! where! Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?' Ho! ho! ho!" "What are you doing here!" demanded Thames. "Is she dead?" "No—no," answered Hogarth. " "Here it is," replied Edgeworth Bess. Melusine’s eyes blazed into his. .
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