“No! My father. 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. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. Anna sighed as she reflected that her sister had simply revelled in her indiscretions. I have never in my life been so much puzzled by any one as by your sister. Morningside Park was a suburb that had not altogether, as people say, come off.
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