"More than three hundred weight, Sir," replied the man. Voilà tout. There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it. 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. He had need of all the inexhaustible energy of his character to support him through his toilsome walk over the wet grass, or along the slippery ploughed land. Why did he care? “I could never marry a girl who’s not a virgin. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears.
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