"Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. “Is there any urgency?” The doctor bent over his patient, who seemed to have fallen asleep. Curiosity to see what a sing-song girl was like took possession of Ruth's thoughts. She looked at him gravely and squinted. She put a hand to the lad’s cold cheek and choked on a sob. Come down, I say, instantly, or I'll make you. —'We'll do it,' said they, filling their glasses, and looking as fierce as King George's grenadier guards; 'here's your health, Mint. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes.
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