At ninethirty he climbed into the chair and signified to Ah Cum that he was ready. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. As for himself, there had never been a touch of it. 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. ‘Because I love you. ” “Don’t tempt me,” she said, laughing, and drawing her opera-cloak together. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. It's a pity you wouldn't give me the prescription instead of the medicine, so I could have it filled nearer home. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. " "Bah!" returned the woollen-draper. His face clouded with anger.
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