He was a philosopher. "I vent to de New Prish'n, and on wishitin' his shel vid de turnkey, vot should ve find but de shains on de ground, de vinder broken, and Jack and Agevorth Besh gone. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. 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. "Well, what can you expect, guzzling poison like that? Are you returning with us to Hong-Kong in the morning?" "No. I went to her rooms to-night. “You permitted me then to call you my friend. The blades on the top spun faster and faster.
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