‘Can’t you trust me a little?’ His touch sent shivers running through her, but Melusine did not withdraw her hand. She foraged about in her mind for some satisfying equivalent which would express in English this gurgling drone the Chinese called a language. Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore. 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.
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