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. They WERE, she realized, acutely beautiful things. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. " CHAPTER XIV. She traced him by his scent.
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