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. Something changed for her. " But seeing that no notice was taken of the retort, he drew a little aside, and folded his arms, muttering, "This whim will soon be over. He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. “How so?” “I should have shared these things with you earlier, my sweet heart.
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