We can’t be lovers in the ordinary sense, but we can be great and intimate friends. 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. So long as she stood beside him, he was safe. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. " "At your peril, sirrah!" cried Wood. He had thought it might have that effect. Certainly you have a reason. He embraced her small body in his arms, kissing her forehead over and over. I am entirely English, as you know well.
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