“Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. But it's an odd case. 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. “There is some one else whom I care for!” He laughed hardly. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. " So saying, she retired, and Jack entered the cell. Sheppard, a matron offered to conduct him to her cell. Spurling was no longer allowed to visit him; he was again loaded with irons; fastened by an enormous horse-padlock to a staple in the floor; and only allowed to take repose in a chair. I was rude and stupid. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. That is why I called myself Anna.
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