In the next place, she really had some pretensions to beauty. Burn your palette and your easel. 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. He told her something about music, the great world outside. . In mid-bite, she heard a car door slam that was recognizable. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. Parbleu, but she was a fool. ” “Heavens!” the lady exclaimed. " "Horror!" cried Jack. God would have taken mercy on her baby, seeing that she had already had too much pain and that he had taken her beloved mother. ’ He slid slowly down and collapsed to the stone floor, fainting dead away. “For your own sake, let me beg of you not to stay for a moment. You are not playing to-night, are you?” “Not to-night,” she answered.
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