The doctor had sown a seed, carelessly. I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months. "I would treat him as you treated his father, Sir Rowland. 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. Hitherto in the world’s history there had been precursors of this Progress at great intervals, voices that had spoken and ceased, but now it was all coming on together in a rush.
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