The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. ‘Say then, Jacques, you have followed him?’ she demanded of the blackgarbed footman. 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. This vile hovering to catch a man’s eye!. Priests and princes sought his knowledge of languages and philosophy and wantonly tried to throw themselves into his bed.
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