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. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. 97 “For what, kiddo?” Larry turned his head slightly to one side. ‘I do not know of whom you speak. She could tell that they too would find their legs jutting awkwardly from the petite furniture. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him.
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