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. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. After these dinners they would have a walk, usually to the Thames Embankment to see the two sweeps of river on either side of Waterloo Bridge; and then they would part at Westminster Bridge, perhaps, and he would go on to Waterloo. The wall of St. Sebastian's arms were about her, his fists pumping her stomach as she coughed forth saltwater from her belly and lungs. E.
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