There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. How would he act when he learned that it had vanished? She gathered up the manuscripts and restored them to the envelope. You DO use vile language!” “Forget about it like this. And to think that man got it all out of the poorest little love-story for a respectable titled lady! Have you read of it?” “Never. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. He would pursue that little pastime on some other occasion. It must be some days before you can arrange for her to make an identification.
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