I—I am a lovesick idiot, and not accountable for my actions. 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. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. " On a shelf was placed a row of paint-jars; the contents of which had been daubed in rainbow streaks upon the adjacent closet and window sill. “I thought you weren’t keeping up to the mark. There was nothing to be got out of the man.
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