‘I trust you were not altogether disgusted when I kissed you. I told them lies. 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. “Time for my Patience,” she said. Husband of mine, I think we have rather overrated the emotional capacity of those—those dears. He was always drawing contrasts between a woman’s lot and a man’s, and treating her as a wonderful new departure in this comparison. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. Then, very awkwardly, he took a stool and placed it at the end of Ann Veronica’s table, and sat down.
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