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 had kissed his wife on the mouth … and had been horrified! There was real madness somewhere along this road. ‘Forgive me, Mrs Sindlesham, but do you tell me this inheritance that Melusine has fought so hard to recover is completely wasted?’ The old lady gave him a sharp look.
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