’ He nodded in the direction of her pistol. “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. ” “And they go?” “When they get the chance. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. ’ He threw one arm across his own chest and clapped himself on the shoulder. 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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