” “When is Michaelmas Day?” said Ann Veronica, a little abruptly. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days. But I'll tell you about him some other time. A creeping numbness invaded her. 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. The baby crawled towards them, seeking their blood. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. Ruth was not a woman; she was a phenomenon. “It was just an hour before teatime,” she remarked.
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