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. They did not care— servant or master, it meant nothing. Yet the thing hidden within her called and called. I do not think that I have the Bohemian spirit at all. She was practicing with them on that very day, and displaced a rather mediocre boy violinist who claimed “to be better at the viola anyway” as first chair. . He was twenty-nine at the time, practically an old man. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia.
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