"Shall I help you on with it, Sir?" replied the Jew, becoming suddenly respectful. She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch. Turning, she flew for the nearest door. The poster is of ‘Alcide. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. 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. “Why?” “I still love you.
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