The biological laboratory, perpetually viewing life as pairing and breeding and selection, and again pairing and breeding, seemed only a translated generalization of that assertion. 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. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. " "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. 3. “Dear husband,” she murmured. He was beautiful despite the odd angle. Smith's melody had subsided.
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