ter which a girl
shouldn't apply to anyone but to him who is to be her husband."

"Fiddlestick! Mr. Lord and Master that is to be, but is not as yet.
But he is, in many respects. I don't think, Frank, you can imagine
the horror I feel in reference to that vilest of human beings. I
shall carry a dagger with me, in order to have it ready for any
occasion."

"What does he do? You shall not go to be subjected to such danger and
such annoyance."

She turned round, and looked up into his face as with derision. "The
annoyance no doubt will be mine, Frank, and must be endured; the
danger will be his, I think. Nor shall I use the dagger that I spoke
of. I can look at him, and I can make him hear my voice, in spite of
the smallness of my stature. But there is no one in this world whom I
detest as I do that greasy Jew. It is not for what he does, but that
I simply detest him. He makes love to me."

"What!"

"Oh! he does. You needn't look like that. You needn't be a bit
jealous."

"I shall come over at once."

"And knock him on the head! You had better not do that, because we
want to make some money by his means. As a lover I can keep him at a
distance. I wish I could do so to you, Mr. Jones."

"Why do you wish to keep me at a distance?"

"Because you know how to be troublesome. It is much harder to
keep a lover at a distance when you really love him with all your
heart"--here she looked up into his face and squeezed his arm, and
nearly made him mad for the moment--"than a beast like that, who is
no better than a toad to you. There, do you see that ugly old man
there?" She pointed to a cross-looking old gentleman of sixty, who
was scolding a porter violently. "Why aren't you jealous of that
man?"

"You never saw him before."

"That's just the reason. He may be worth my affection, but I know
that that Mahomet M. M. is not. You begin with the most bitter hatred
on my part. I don't hate that old gentleman. I rather like him on
the whole, though he was so cross. At any rate he's not a greasy Jew.
Papa says that hating Jews is a prejudice. Loving you is a prejudice,
I suppose."

"My darling!"

"You can't suppose you are the best man I ever saw, can you?"

"It's a sort of thing we are not to reason about."

"Then it's a prejudice. I'm prejudiced against Mahomet M. M. I'm
equally prejudiced in favour of Mr. Jones, junior, of Ballintubber.
It's horrible to be troubled by the one."

"Well!"

"Well! There's nothing