“It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. "Do you not know me, father?" said the young man, advancing towards him, and warmly grasping his hand. 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. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. The pistol was lowered slightly.
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