” He smiled at her. . He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. 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 threw her arms around Rollo's neck and laid her cheek upon the flea-bitten head.
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