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. By various twistings and turnings, during all which time his pursuers, who were greatly increased in numbers, kept him in view, he reached Gray's-Inn-lane. I am apparently a beast, a pig and an imbecile, too, if memory serves me. John knew everybody, it seemed. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. And now, let's see who'll refuse the pledge. That is what they call these aristocratic refugees, the English.
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