It has been proved. But I've stacks of books and a grand piano-player. 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. Even the stars were strangers. CHAPTER XIV. He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. Sheppard. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out.
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