verse from Euripides. Helen ran away, and Leonard interposed.

"For shame, Burley!"

"He's drunk," said Mr. Douce, the bankrupt trader, "very drunk; don't
mind him. I say, sir, I hope we don't intrude. Sit still, Burley, sit
still, and talk, do,--that's a good man. You should hear him--ta--ta--
talk, sir." Leonard meanwhile had got Helen out of the room into her
own, and begged her not to be alarmed, and keep the door locked. He then
returned to Burley, who had seated himself on the bed, trying wondrous
hard to keep himself upright; while Mr. Douce was striving to light a
short pipe that he carried in his button-hole--without having filled it--
and, naturally failing in that attempt, was now beginning to weep.

Leonard was deeply shocked and revolted for Helen's sake; but it was
hopeless to make Burley listen to reason. And how could the boy turn
out of his room the man to whom he was under obligations?

Meanwhile there smote upon Helen's shrinking ears loud jarring talk and
maudlin laughter, and cracked attempts at jovial songs. Then she heard
Mrs. Smedley in Leonard's room, remonstrating; and Burley's laugh was
louder than before, and Mrs. Smedley, who was a meek woman, evidently got
frightened, and was heard in precipitate retreat. Long and loud talk
recommenced, Burley's great voice predominant, Mr. Douce chiming in with
hiccoughy broken treble. Hour after hour this lasted, for want of the
drink that would have brought it to a premature close. And Burley
gradually began to talk himself somewhat sober. Then Mr. Douce was
heard descending the stairs, and silence followed. At dawn, Leonard
knocked at Helen's door. She opened it at once, for she had not gone
to bed.