He watched her constantly, trapped her in corners and slept with his arms locking her like a human cage. The father was a madman. 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. ‘Lay him down on a sofa,’ Melusine said, coming out behind them and moving towards the antechamber.
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