“It’s either now or never,” she said to herself. ’ Pierced to the heart by the poignancy of this utterance, Gerald could neither move nor speak. 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. ‘Aye, that she was. The vote is only the beginning, the necessary beginning. ‘It is precisely that point over which Melusine and I fell out. 9.
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