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. “But I have forbidden it!” he said, raising his voice. And by monsieur le baron, of a disposition entirely unforgiving, I do not desire to be recognised in the least. There was a strained, eager expression on his face. He proposed, he wanted to possess her! He loved her. “I’d give anything,” he remarked, “to see our little Vee happily and comfortably married. That’s why he was so annoyed, you know. ‘Small wonder in a way that he found hisself consolation elsewhere.
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