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. Her tone was icy. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. " But he searched in vain. I figured it would hurt your feelings if you knew I still talked to him, so I kept my mouth shut.
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