ToC London, at the period of this history, boasted only a single bridge. “I am off to-night,” he said. " And he led the way to an inner room, in the middle of which stood a table, covered with a large white cloth. “How are you feeling?” She asked with grave concern in her voice. Dizziness overcame him like anesthetic and he slept. 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. If my conjectures are right, this boy would stay there indefinitely. “I would marry your sister anyhow, under any circumstances,” he answered. Under happier circumstances nothing would have given me more pleasure than to have offered you a home with your sister. ‘That little kiss cost him his sanctuary, my girl, and don’t you forget it. “Thank you,” she said coolly.
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