” “I don’t care how we meet,” she said. Well, let him be honest. It was in fact the first embrace of motherhood she had ever known. \" He took his milk and cookies to bed. 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 felt surges of longing escape every corner of her flesh. It hardly served his interests. 1.
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