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She was chaffing him about being taken for Meysey Hill, and suggested that he should be presented to me as the millionaire. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. 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. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. Wood, when he does return, I'd send him about his business. ” She taunted. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father.
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