There was a pint of champagne and a quart of mineral water (both taboo) at his elbow. Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay; I'll summon the landlord—I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, I'll taste of the tap, To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. “Really!” said Mr. "I understand," she said. This was followed by heavy footsteps, and in another moment the dining-room door was flung open.
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