“Won’t you tell me why you have come to England?” she said. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. “Yes,” she said at last, “it is firm and affectionate. “Thank you. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. General Lord Charvill disinherited him for his pains. I'll show you the Shamien; and we can talk all we want. Where Saint Giles' church stands, once a lazar-house stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a vessel of wood; A broad-bottom'd bowl, from which all the fine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strong beer, Their spirits to cheer, 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! II.
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