” John greeted him. 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. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. Anna glanced into her sister’s face, and rose to her feet. And, snatching the spike from Thames, he struck the janizary a severe blow on the head. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. ” Ennison dropped the evening paper which he had been pretending to read. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music.
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