'He's a good fellow, and 'twill all end well'. Her voice recalled him. ‘She didn’t behave in the least like an émigré, if these people are anything to go by. "You were saying—?" "I started to say something; that is all. 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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