. “Not a bit of it,” he said; “it’s only a score in a game. ’ A panel slid open and she stepped into the relative light of the little dressingroom, Kimble close behind her. 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. Men had tried that before, but never until now had they been quick enough. “Wonderful man!” said Ann Veronica, reassured, and stroking his cheek with her finger. . " "With a face as square and flat as a bottle of gin.
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