But don’t run away with the idea that I’m hanging out for a wife at last, because I’m not. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. 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. ‘Tchah! So you’re the whelp’s girl, are you? Suppose you’ve nothing but that villainous French in your tongue. Something, I'm convinced, has happened to the boys. ’ Footsteps sounded just outside, and Captain Roding walked in. But she had loved the man.
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