Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. Far too old to ask you on your first date. You will never be happy with this hanging over you. " CHAPTER XIII. Mr. “Dear me!” he said. 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.
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