Girls who had envied her former position as John’s amour passed no opportunity to utter cryptic remarks as she sat in Study Hall, walked down hallways, or rinsed her hands in the bathroom. She put a hand to the lad’s cold cheek and choked on a sob. The door opened, and a slightly overweight pretty blonde, an older, wiser version of Michelle, came into view. With a cry of distress, she dropped the pistol and flew after him, racing past him to the door. She would have just to keep the fifteen pounds until she could make it twenty. While this took place, while Quilt thundered at the inner door, and Jack drew back the bolts of the outer, a deep, manly voice was heard chanting—as if in contempt of the general uproar—the following strain:— With pipe and punch upon the board, And smiling nymphs around us; No tavern could more mirth afford Than old Saint Giles's round-house! The round-house! the round-house! The jolly—jolly round-house! "The jolly, jolly round-house!" chorussed Sheppard, as the last bar yielded to his efforts.
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