Gerald grinned. This gloom was impossible. Fifty pupils. And if this soi-disant Valade had already gone to Monsieur Charvill— ‘Very well,’ she said to Jack without turning round, ‘but now is Wednesday. But you must allow me to observe, my good Sir, that you're wholly in the wrong respecting my friend. 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.
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