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. Who is the other?” “What other?” Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. It’s an engagement ring. She should have slapped him but she was in shock at her own thoughts of lust that arose. As absurd as that you take this interest in my affairs. We haven’t.
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