“Oh, but life is difficult!” she groaned. "My enemy," replied her son. . It was still possible the child might be in safety. It is to take place to-night. Hanging about! And they start thinking and asking questions, and begin to be neither one thing nor the other. 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 pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. She could have kissed Cathy. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. One must be on guard.
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