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. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. “Does he live here?” he asked her presently. . Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. . He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. Wood had been my father, as well as yours. There is everywhere at night in China the original fear of darkness. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance.
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