She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. ‘I should have thought it was obvious. Horribly skinny he was, and short too. Luckily, they were not easily discomposed. "Have you been more successful, Sir?" ventured Ireton. "What's your name?" he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. 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. ’ ‘Indeed? Interesting.
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