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” She muttered some unlady-like comment upon herself under her breath and engaged in secret additions. 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. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. ‘Adieu, imbecile,’ she threw at him gleefully. " "For whom, Sir?" inquired Charcam. “I’m sorry I told you that, Michelle. "I am as God made me.

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