"Well, since you force me to betray my master's secrets," replied Quilt, sullenly, "I've ridden express to Manchester to deliver a message to Sir Rowland. Then she spoke, with a carelessness he instantly suspected. 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. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. I was mean to him. "What's that?" ejaculated the ruffian, glancing uneasily towards the window. ‘No one is here, Melusine, except you and I. I am not prying for my own amusement.
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