Forthwith he presented his card. “Now I’ll have what I want from you, wife. What little happiness I had I was forced to steal. The chance had gone. 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. . ” Michelle smiled at Lucy.
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