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. Of course I knew all about him years ago, and he is exactly like everybody’s description of him. Then, there's Mr. \" She replied. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. We've got to make him take up the harp of life and go twanging it again. Her heart full of dread, she dragged on it.
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