Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. “May I sit beside you?” “It’s a very difficult one,” said her aunt. ‘Then it must certainly be Eugénie. "No more, please! I am bewildered enough. “There is something which I must say to you. It’s just like your Splendid Pride to do it. "Will you write," asked the doctor, "and tell me how you are getting along?" "Oh, yes!" "The last advice I can give you is this: excite his imagination; get him started with his writing. ’ ‘No, for that would have had to be in Melusine’s possession to start with. . 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. "Then you haven't heard?" "Of what?" "Well, well!" cried the manager, delighted at the idea of surprising the doctor.
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