She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. Gosse were you born, and Gosse will you remain to your death. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. 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. ” Part 7 It was rather less than a week after that walk that Capes came and sat down beside Ann Veronica for their customary talk in the lunch hour.
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