Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. 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. “WHAT a place! “Stuffy isn’t the word for it. ‘You have come to me in place of Gérard? But how is it you will help me?’ ‘That’s all right and tight. "I am Owen Wood, at your service. Lucy's ears were singing. . ” “Yes,” said his prospective fellow-sailor, “that’s very pretty. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know.
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