" The chair was then rapidly put in motion, and speedily disappeared. 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 still wore his hat, to show that the days of miracles and Christ being civil to sinners are over forever. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat.
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