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 poor things! Oh, it was quite dreadful. She lived, he noted, very carelessly. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. If she was in a position to help him she would help him; only it happened to be the other way round.
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