Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. But he is kind of cute. 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. He did not think of her as a killer, he could barely conceive it. Little did I imagine at the time that it was my own father to whom he referred.
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