She ran to the lamp and extinguished it. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. Double-crossing wouldn't do any good. "More than you'll pay for it, friend," snuffled the Jew.
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