235 “No, I think she’s out sick with a throat infection. In your heart you know very well that this is absurd. Somehow I haven’t connected the idea with you. But that possibility had been anticipated. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. Breakfast, too, was an impossible occasion. 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. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes. Why, honestly enouch. “Oh good.
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