I have to see if you carry any more weapons. 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. "Right!—right!" cried Jack, striking his fettered hands against his breast. She did not remember how many seasons it took before she relented, how much time before she decided to toy with his affections.
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