. . “There are some people,” he said at last, “who seem fated to carry on their shoulders the burdens of other people. ” To which the only possible reply seemed to be, “I’m not coming home. 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. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. "Only the dog," replied the rough tones of a man. The challenge gave her courage.
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