Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. "But you've given me what I don't possess. Walpole, and then to Newgate. " So saying, he threw himself into a chair. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes.
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