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. The sidewalk resonated with the pounding of cold rain
by the time she left the building. They might applaud, or object,
or interfere, but the drama was her very own. The Closing Scene
472
EPOCH THE FIRST.
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