"Egad!" exclaimed Wood, "you've hit the right nail on the head, anyhow. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. Where the robber may cheer His spirit with beer, 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! III. She could tell that he was leering at her. Wood's advice and assistance, but the thought of the reception she was likely to meet with from his wife deterred her from executing this resolution.
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