"Well, what can you expect, guzzling poison like that? Are you returning with us to Hong-Kong in the morning?" "No. 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 wouldn't let me go. They WERE, she realized, acutely beautiful things. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. If I had never met anything of you at all but a scrap of your skin binding a book, Ann Veronica, I know I would have kept that somewhere near to me. It was only a few months ago that I told you you must come to London, and you only laughed at me. I don’t suppose you could tell me even the derivation of suffrage if I asked you. ‘In fact, I’ve never met anyone who goaded me to so much violence. "Why it is astonishing, certainly," remarked Kneebone, "to find any woman constant—especially to a girlish attachment; but such is the case.
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