Twice we hired caterers. Wait a moment. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. You understand me, I’m sure. 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. She stood looking down upon him with dilated eyes. "I will have it now," rejoined Trenchard, "or our agreement is void.
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