But Jack was too nimble for him. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. “One has to live and learn,” she remarked, with a passable imitation of her father’s manner. ‘I thought, you see, that we might as well enter by the same way our intruder had done. My trouble is with your sister. Oh! I'm in such a fluster!" Upon which, she snatched up her fan, cast a look into the glass, smoothed down her scarf, threw a soft expression into her features, and led the way into the next room, whither she was followed by her daughter and Thames Darrell. 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. Wood, "and I'll take care of Thames.
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