"Yale? Why, so am I. But that instinct is severely dampened most of the time. “Soul to soul. She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure. There's the grand laced coat he wore at his trial, which I intend for my wedding-dress. 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. He wisely refrained from questioning the manager of the Victoria.
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