Earles, but it is a good one. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. He went on with his song, accompanying it with the most ridiculous grimaces: "When years were gone by, she began to rue Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!) 'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she, 'But where is my gallant of high degree? Where! where! Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?' Ho! ho! ho!" "What are you doing here!" demanded Thames. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. The cold air gave her gooseflesh under her red brocade dress as she slipped outside. As for that, what man ever had? "That's a remarkable young woman," he offered, merely to note what effect it would have. A.
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