His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. 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. ” “You’ll never pay me. “I wonder what you could do?” he said. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. The sun shined weakly through brief pinpricks 90 in the thick cloud cover, the weather was brewing a storm. " Ruth brushed her eyes with one hand and with the other signed for the spinster to stop.
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