Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. I want to love him. He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. I am bored to distraction. ’ It took several frustrating moments, working at the protrusions of the carving down the side of the bookshelves, tugging at leaves, pushing at flowers. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. 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.
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