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. Some one was standing beside him. She shuddered with relief as it seemed that Mike and Shari were still out and about. “I believe that you are right,” he said softly. Was he really awake? The arrival and departure of this strange father lacked the essential human touch to make it real. \"May I come in?\" His bravado was increasing.
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