Mr. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. 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. Will you stand by and watch me?" The contents of the trunk only thickened the fog. He would have risen again, but for the significance of the action. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. You fell in at once with her quixotic and damnable scheme of foisting her reputation and her follies upon your shoulders whilst she marries a rich man and commences all over again a life of selfish pleasure.
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