on. 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. A moistened velvet touch found her tongue. But when he looked again, there she was! "I don't understand," he said, finally. “I brought a man with me who is posted outside,” he remarked. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute. Wood, "and take your son with you. \" She said, bashful. Ever hear of the djinn in the bottle? Like enough. "Not before it's needed," returned Jack, aloud; adding in a whisper, "get upon my shoulders, Thames. "I'll tackle it to-night!" "But it's after ten!" "What's that got to do with it? … The roofs of the native huts scattering in the wind! … the absolute agony of the twisting palms!….
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