“Yes. . 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 closed her eyes, discerning the divinations he had been up to during her violin concert. However, no one had discovered me, so I contrived to drag myself to my horse. "You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. She will take me in until I can make some plans.
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