Shortly Ruth and Spurlock took the way home. " "I was never going to tell anybody," she added. " "Still, you forgot something. Annabel looked up and down the empty street, and then turned to her sister. 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. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor.
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