’ ‘Is it, now? Well you won’t, then, for he won’t hear nothing, missie. See? You marry me. I have gone without dinner for three nights, and—come in. That, Sir, is what I call being a Good Samaritan. You go cheer him up. Get the pole out of your ass. 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. She had finally managed to start breaking him down.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ5LjI0My4xOCAtIDEwLTA2LTIwMjQgMDA6MTk6MzggLSAxNDU2MjU1MzI2
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