She must not tell Martha about Gerald. “My friends,” she said, “my dear friends, I am going to make the same answer to all of you—and that is perhaps you will say no answer at all. All her pride raged at me. It never is. ’ ‘But he’s a major of militia, miss. Where Saint Giles' church stands, once a lazar-house stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a vessel of wood; A broad-bottom'd bowl, from which all the fine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strong beer, Their spirits to cheer, 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! II.
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