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He rose slowly and extended it. Where the robber may cheer His spirit with beer, 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! III. “The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked. “You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. ‘Ah, bah, it is enough,’ she cried, and turning, ran out of the room. ‘Very well, mademoiselle, so be it,’ he snapped. Gerald sighed. Having now fairly got out of Newgate for the second time, with a heart throbbing with exultation, he hastened to make good his escape.
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