She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. ‘It will suit me very well that you go away, because you are a person without sense and I do not wish to talk to you. ‘I am not a person, Marthe. 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. A wild passion of shame and self-disgust swept over her. ” “I cannot do it!” he cried hoarsely. He jumped out of the car.
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