On a pallet in one corner lay a pale emaciated female. She dropped on her knees by his side, and gently unbuttoned his waistcoat. 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 cannot be helped now. \" Lucy replied. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers.
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