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. “I’m inclined to think, Stanley, myself that as a matter of fact it was the expurgated Romeo and Juliet did the mischief. The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents. Funny codgers, aren't they?" he said. " "That sounds funny … to play it with your feet!" McClintock laughed. Stanley admired and detested him in almost equal measure.
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