’ ‘Alone, miss?’ ‘Certainly alone. She, perhaps, displayed herself rather consciously as a fine person unduly limited. Of course she had often heard sailors hammering out their ditties. Every time he left a room, she chastised herself bitterly for her own profound weakness. 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. She made a curious movement toward her niece, then suddenly, convulsively, she dabbed down something lumpy on the table and turned to follow her brother. “Dyed!” “And your figure?” “One’s corsetière arranges that. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of marrying you, when he grows old enough. I kicked the living shit out of him. Smith, placing his hand on his breast. It was the end, she told herself, fiercely. The calvacade was now put slowly in motion.
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