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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

"Peter: a novel of which he is not the hero"

It was something else. Jack
wondered vaguely if the Jew wanted to turn money-lender at a big
percentage.
"Why do you want to know?" he asked; more to gain time to fathom
his purpose than with any intention of giving him the facts.
Isaac went to his desk, opened with great deliberation an ebony
box, took out two cigars, offered one to Jack, leaned over the
lamp until his own was alight, and took the chair opposite Jack's.
All this time Jack sat watching him as a child does a necromancer,
wondering what he meant to do next.
"Why do I want to know, Mr. Breen? Well, I will tell you. I have
loved Mr. Grayson for a great many years. When he goes out in the
morning he always looks through the glass window and waves his
hand. If I am not in sight, he opens the door and calls inside,
'Ah, good-morning, Isaac.' At night, when he comes home, he waves
his hand again. I know every line in his face, and it is always a
happy face. Once or twice a week he comes in here, and we talk.
That is his chair--the one you are sitting in.


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