“Please stop, cabman,” she ordered. Treading with noiseless step over the soft mould, they soon reached the building. The soldiers surrounded the cart, drew their swords, and by striking the rioters first with the blunt edge of their blades, and afterwards with the sharp points, succeeded in driving them back. 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. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. She had worried in fear that the excitement would be too much for him. He was always deceived by these rustlings which promised wind and seldom fulfilled that promise.
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