“For men have reason, women rhyme A man scores always, all the time. ‘Major, sir!’ The major appeared so swiftly that Melusine was instantly suspicious. Manning, Lady Palsworthy’s nephew, a tall young man of seven-and-thirty with a handsome, thoughtful, impassive face, a full black mustache, and a certain heavy luxuriousness of gesture. Hastily, he reached for the door. "Is it by lettin' you go, my darlin', that I'm to airn it?" inquired Terence. 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. Paris, 18.
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