” She fumbled with her keys and opened the front door. The area was sparsely populated. Brendon’s had an awful stroke of luck. Well, after all, he seemed to be turning the subject. 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. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it.
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