" "I don't object to the likeness, if any such exists, young Sir," returned Jackson, darting an angry glance at Thames; "indeed I'm rather flattered by being thought to resemble a gentleman of Mr. " "You're not deceiving me!" said Thames, doubtfully. Narrow little beady brown eyes, and she’s got big eyebrows like dead caterpillars. . " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. Sheppard. “Think of the mockery!” she said. Like appendicitis. "Leave me, Sir; I insist.
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