“Think of the mockery!” she said. “Is that plain?” she asked. Sebastian was gone and another doctor came to bleed her, to rid her of the black humors that were causing the plague. 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. " "Let me have a glass of brandy," said he, addressing the host. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man.
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