It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. Mind, I, Baptist Kettleby, say so. He went on with his song, accompanying it with the most ridiculous grimaces: "When years were gone by, she began to rue Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!) 'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she, 'But where is my gallant of high degree? Where! where! Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?' Ho! ho! ho!" "What are you doing here!" demanded Thames. ” She felt humiliated.
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