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. All the world before you, all the ologies. She was in deadly earnest in everything she did. But at last this ordeal was over, and Ramage opened the door. Mrs. Twelve years ago! It is an awful retrospect. D'ye hear how the wanes creaks on old Winchester House? We shall have a touch on it ourselves presently. Anything that had love in it! The doctor comprehended that he also had his work cut out.
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