Raising the bowl in his right hand, Jack glanced towards the balcony, in which the group of ladies were seated, and begged to drink their healths; he then turned to Kneebone and the others, who extended their hands towards him, and raised it to his lips. ’ He stopped suddenly, dismay creeping into his face. It had gone with the rest. Somehow to-night—I don’t know. Behind the poet came Sir James Thornhill. “I wouldn’t make this objection,” Mr.
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