It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. His face brightened at the sight of her, and he came toward her. “Ann Veronica,” he said, “I tell you this is love. Better check on Remenham House, I suppose. 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.
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