’ ‘But that would make her half French,’ Hilary pointed out. That could signify nothing except that the doctor had a friend down there somewhere, on an island in one of those archipelagoes. She was gone. Having accomplished his intent, Gerald let the lad go and had himself driven back to Stratton Street. Only she hadn’t. 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.
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