"I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. 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 were white men with families, a fine mission-house, and a club-house for cards and billiards. ‘No, no, Jacques, you have done very right. ‘Oh, peste. Besides those who conducted themselves more peaceably, the conductors of the procession noticed with considerable uneasiness, large bands of men armed with staves, bludgeons, and other weapons, who were flying across the field in the same direction. I can’t even carry a tune with a bucket. While the girl kept the patient from dwelling upon his misfortunes, whatever these were, he himself would have to keep the girl from brooding over hers. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. “Was it terrible for you after he died?” “Don’t worry yourself about it John. “Splendid you are looking to-day, Miss Stanley,” he said.
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