She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. "Better than your company, Saint Giles," replied Sheppard; "so, shut the door, and make yourself scarce. ‘You should not kiss me at all, and undoubtedly I should kill you. " With this, he appeared to pluck up his courage, and stepped forward more boldly. You will have lots of time on your hands. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE.
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