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. But as the mystery which surrounded Ruth fell away that which enveloped her father thickened. “I believe it is. They could no longer stay in one place. ‘And nnever would you have f-found it. “She has improved her style,” someone declared.
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