"Thank you, sir," said Spurlock, holding out his hand. Sheppard, with an agonized look at Wood. The poor fellow's half smothered. But it was the form of her ruling determination; it was the only form that she ever allowed to see daylight. ‘Who the devil is Leonardo?’ demanded Roding impatiently, asking the question that had leapt into the major’s mind. 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. Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth.
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