Piercing through every crevice in the clothes, it, in some cases, tore them from the wearer's limbs, or from his grasp. 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. The pain in Cathy and Shari Beck’s faces upset him the most, but the posters with a close up of her face they had put all over town made his heart ache more.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyNi41Mi4xMjQgLSAxMy0wNi0yMDI0IDE5OjU2OjU1IC0gMTAzNDkyODQ0NQ==
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