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. It was owing to the untimely end of this poor fellow that Mrs. The young officer sat in front, his hat perfectly straight. "Women are always balling up and muddling clean cases. She felt sickeningly empty. The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating. Consider you’ve got resources deposited with me. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand.
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