B. 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. She must not tell Martha about Gerald. ’ ‘No, but you’ve made up for it since. " "Can I trust him?" mused Jack. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her.
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