If he could keep it up—style and calibre of imagination—within a year the name of Taber would become widely known. 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. She did most urgently desire to save her face in Morningside Park, and for long hours she could think of no way of putting it that would not be in the nature of unconditional admission of defeat. "Bless your soul! d'ye think I'm to be gammoned by such nonsense. “At a boarding-house?” he gasped. ” John took his hand away. It has come,—and sooner than you expected. .
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