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 went in and leaned, panting, against one wall. He was an officer, and a person of very great sense, and altogether a desirable parti. In their happiest times, he was the most faithful and devoted of husbands. He knew it was unnerving, he did it to everyone, even his own kin. You have told me that you cared. A sacrifice. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. I might have known it. Earles waiting.
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