The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional. He installed Anna in a comfortable easy chair, and placed his own between her and the door. 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. Mind, I, Baptist Kettleby, say so.
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