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. Gerald lifted an eyebrow. Edgeworth Bess wore a scarlet tabby negligée,—a sort of undress, or sack, then much in vogue,—which suited her to admiration, and upon her head had what was called a fly-cap, with richly-laced lappets. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure. There are times when you make me feel a little thing at your feet—a young, silly, protected thing. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. People always rejoice at the misfortunes of others—never at their own! The droll dogs! how they must have enjoyed it!—ha! ha!" "I dare say they did. ‘Dead then, is he?’ ‘If I could say that he is dead, it would give me very much satisfaction. Let us stay the night here. Sheppard, faintly.
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