" And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. As a sex you’re a little under-trained—in affairs. Treat me as an elder brother, if you like. But Bess could scarcely summon resolution enough to hazard the experiment; and it was only on Jack's urgent intreaties, and even threats, that she could be prevailed on to trust herself to the frail tenure of the rope he had prepared. In truth, Sheila never saw Lucy murder anyone at all, she only saw the blood.
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