This is my last week at the ‘Unusual,’
you know. They were things I had meant very much to talk to you about, so that I
went home vexed and disappointed, and only relieved myself a little by writing a
few verses. 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. E. She found presently she was out of the dock and confronted with the
alternative of being bound over in one surety for the sum of forty pounds—
whatever that might mean or a month’s imprisonment. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the
fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big
portal. I
don’t want a family in the suburbs and Christmases at the
Florida house and summers at the Hamptons. He has nothing to fall back upon, no substitute; but a woman always has the
mother love. "
"If in my power—certainly.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 28-06-2024 04:18:50