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. He went into the study and sat down at his table, but not to write. Gerald would not marry her even with a dowry. "It's Mrs. Sheila wouldn’t allow me to date a boy even if he was only fifteen—I mean sixteen, like I am, you see. . . But that bridge was more remarkable than any the metropolis now possesses. ‘You do not understand, Gérard.
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