"And so, you really suspected me?" murmured Mrs. 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. “I’ve got—I have to tell you this to make myself clear—a streak of ardent animal in my composition. ‘I don’t think he deserved that, Melusine. ’ ‘Only a few minutes, miss. ’ Gerald gazed at her without expression. She fidgeted and looked away. “It’s a way of avoiding explanations.
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