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. We were to have breakfast there and return in the evening. “What are you doing here? How dare you come to my rooms!” The man stepped into the middle of the room. I think I asked if I could eat lunch with her and Trisha Deere one day and she said there was no room at the table. ‘Leave it, imbecile.
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