He spoke only when he saw the sing-song girl he wanted to buy. "Do you recollect this key? Do you recollect to whom you gave it, and for what purpose? or shall I refresh your memory?" Wild appeared confounded. "I can't say I do," replied Wood. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. Surely our advice would have been worth having, at any rate. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. He felt he had raised a storm which it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to allay. On a small shelf near the foot of the bed stood a couple of empty phials, a cracked ewer and basin, a brown jug without a handle, a small tin coffee-pot without a spout, a saucer of rouge, a fragment of looking-glass, and a flask, labelled "Rosa Solis.
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