” 189 “Are you feeling okay?” She could feel a parade of ants dotting her skin. 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. ‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. Afterward she wanted to get her letter to her father back in order to read it over again, and, if it tallied with her general impression of it, re-write it. "Took a great fancy to you.
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