"O, lud!" she cried; "French noblemen in disguise! and so rude as I was! I shall never recover it!" "A good supper will set all to rights," insinuated Kneebone. Her situation was perplexing her very much, and the Widgett atmosphere was lax and sympathetic, and provocative of discussion. The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean. Where Saint Giles' church stands, once a lazar-house stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a vessel of wood; A broad-bottom'd bowl, from which all the fine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strong beer, Their spirits to cheer, 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! II. Gosse backed, not even attempting to parry so unorthodox a use of the foil.
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