" There was another pause. 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 word handsome was a little beyond her grasp. Think! Had you not better hurry back before Sir John discovers? You are his wife right enough. He hanged your first husband. Ann Veronica paused before she answered. I don’t know anyone. “Soul to soul. I saw it this morning in the Daily Journal—an advertisement, offering a reward—" "A reward!" echoed Jack. Manning; and repeated, “a sort of history.
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