At first Spurlock tasted coconut in his eggs, in what meat he ate; it permeated everything, taste and smell. Always as black and bitter as gall. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. He perceived, however, that both the novels he read and the world he lived in discountenanced these assumptions. Never mind. —BRENDON. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. You won't often see white folks. He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister. 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.
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