“Can you spare me a moment?” he asked. It throbs cruelly. ’ ‘But you must want more. 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. The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes. "What?—help take care of him? Why, you can't do that, Miss Enschede!" was the protest.
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