The doors of several of the wards were thrown open for these parties, and as Jack passed, he could not help glancing at the wretched inmates. 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. “Thank you. She came along with the fluttering assurance of some tall ship. . She lit the cigarette with a tiny Kelly green drugstore lighter. He said the place had gone to wrack. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. The mob pursued the thief-taker and his party all the way, and such missiles as could be collected were hurled at them. ’ Melusine stifled a giggle. Corbet Kynaston, then? Sir John Packington's courier was here yesterday. . Then he relaxed back a little, and let the weapon dangle from his fingers. "Wretch!" cried Jack.
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