s if we are only
patient? Race affinity is a potent force; why be in a hurry to dissipate
it? The Marannos you speak of were but maimed heroes, yet one day the
olden flame burst through the layers of three generations of Christian
profession and inter-marriage, and a brilliant company of illustrious
Spaniards threw up their positions and sailed away in voluntary exile to
serve the God of Israel. We shall yet see a spiritual revival even among
our brilliant English Jews who have hid their face from their own
flesh."

The dark little girl looked up into his face with ill-suppressed wonder.

"Have you done preaching at me, Raphael?" inquired Sidney. "If so, pass
me a banana."

Raphael smiled sadly and obeyed.

"I'm afraid if I see much of Raphael I shall be converted to Judaism,"
said Sidney, peeling the banana. "I had better take a hansom to the
Riviera at once. I intended to spend Christmas there; I never dreamed I
should be talking theology in London."

"Oh, I think Christmas in London is best," said the hostess unguardedly.

"Oh, I don't know. Give me Brighton," said the host.

"Well, yes, I suppose Brighton _is_ pleasanter," said Mr. Montagu
Samuels.

"Oh, but so many Jews go there," said Percy Saville.

"Yes, that _is_ the drawback," said Mrs. Henry Goldsmith. "Do you know,
some years ago I discovered a delightful village in Devonshire, and took
the household there in the summer. The very next year when I went down I
found no less than two Jewish families temporarily located there. Of
course, I have never gone there since."

"Yes, it's wonderful how Jews scent out all the nicest places," agreed
Mrs. Montagu Samuels. "Five years ago you could escape them by not going
to Ramsgate; now even the Highlands are getting impossible."

Thereupon the hostess rose and the ladies retired to the drawing-room,
leaving the gentlemen to discuss coffee, cigars and the paradoxes of
Sidney, who, tired of religion, looked to dumb show plays for the
salvation of dramatic literature.

There was a little milk-jug on the coffee-tray, it represented a victory
over Mary O'Reilly. The late Aaron Goldsmith never took milk till six
hours after meat, and it was with some trepidation that the present Mr.
Goldsmith ordered it to be sent up one evening after dinner. He took an
early opportunity of explaining apologetically to Mary that some of his
guests were not so pious as himself, and hospitality demanded the
concession.

Mr. Hen