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 spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire. “Let me hasten,” she said, “to reassure you. The heavy weapon thundered against the door; and it speedily yielded to their efforts. Jackson took an accurate survey of the room with his one eye, Mr. The thing rankled in her mind night and day.
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