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. " "Vouldn't it!" replied Jack, mimicking his snuffling voice; "then shtay vere you are, and be cursed to you. For fully five minutes he lay quite motionless. " "Help me through at all hazards, Poll," cried Jack, straining towards the opening. He’s terrible!” “Dad!” Lucy smiled at John.
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