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. His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. “You are a thousand times more beautiful,” he said, “than anything else could be. . She was suddenly grave. I meant to give him a drubbing. "With me?" said Thames.
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