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. ‘Gérard, do not go,’ she cried, breathless. Jack attacked Jonathan with such fury, that he drove him into a shrubbery, and might perhaps have come off the victor, if his foot had not slipped as he made a desperate lunge. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors. ’ He added on a teasing note, ‘Though if there’s anything suspicious we can always get the key from Pottiswick. "Every honest man, Sir! He helps us to our own again.
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