He could quite understand the daughter of Mr. The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture. " "Vy don't you talk to your partner, or Saint Giles, if you vant conversation, Aaron?" asked Jack, slyly. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris.
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