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. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire. "What ho!" he cried slapping Smith, who had fallen asleep with the brandybottle in his grasp, upon the shoulder. A Hand that strove to reach his shoulder, relentless, soulless but lawful. Something namelessly abhorrent in the eyes of those men…! She knew what arms were for—to fold and embrace and to hold one tightly; but why men wished to kiss women was still a profound mystery. ” He replied cheerfully. Would you like me to take one for you?\" \"Nah. She withdrew her mouth and patted his penis dry with the bottom of his shirttails. Very slowly, very fearfully, she turned her head. “No, I must have had hope lurking somewhere too.
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