“Won’t you have some more tea, Mr. ” “A—marriage certificate!” Annabel gasped. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. Warned of the approach of the prisoners by the increased clamour, Sharples, who was busied in distributing the Marquis's donation, affected to throw the remainder of the money among the crowd, though, in reality, he kept back a couple of guineas, which he slipped into his sleeve, and running hastily up the steps, unlocked the door. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. ‘Suzanne, if I may say, had also not the choice.
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