They ascended by a lift to one of the upper floors, passed through a long ward, and finally came to a bed in the extreme corner, round which a screen had been arranged. 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. Creeping along quickly on his hands and knees, he found the entrance to a covered drain, into which he crept. “There is my aunt,” she said. She had made a bed for herself out of wood and furs. . I get my driver's license tomorrow. If this idiotic marriage is binding then I will be her friend. Wood laughed louder than ever. But the besetting evil of the place, and that which drew down the severest censures of the writers above-mentioned, was that this spot,—which of all others should have been most free from such intrusion—was made a public exhibition. When the disillusion comes, when the fairy story ends, if she is blessed with children, she doesn't mind. “You did your best to kill me,” he said. ‘That is not your affair. He impetuously grasped a hold of her hand, looking for a callous.
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