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. First, I went to Country Tom's, the Goat, in Long Lane. Spiders came out of their hiding places to commune in windows, industriously spinning their own designs over the stained glass. The party resolved itself for Ann Veronica into a game in which she manoeuvred unostentatiously and finally unsuccessfully to avoid talking alone with this gentleman. The man himself was not a pleasant object. ’ So pat, thought Gerald.
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