John knew everybody, it seemed. Spurlock's vision was oddly of the past. 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. "Do me the favour to seat yourself, Jack," said Sir James. ToC "At length this tragedy is at an end," said Mr. Kneebone, what with flirting with Mrs.
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