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. She struggled not to be afraid. But this is like—like walking round a house that looks square and complete and finding an unexpected long wing running out behind. ‘Is that why you allowed me in, ma’am?’ A dimple appeared in the faded cheek. It shall be your wedding ring. Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill. She dressed rapidly and left the theatre without a word to any one. “Lucy, that’s horrible. They were a young man and an old one, and both appeared deeply affected. Hill. But the aunt seized her in her arms and rocked with her.
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