Children of the Ghetto: A Study of a Peculiar PeopleZangwill, Israel
Religion
Children of the Ghetto: A Study of a Peculiar People
Zangwill, Israel
Jewish fiction; Jews -- England -- London -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
"Odious prig!" thought Hannah. "He actually doesn't see I'm sitting on
him!" Aloud she said, "No? But you can't marry them all."
"Why should I marry any?" he asked in the same light tone, though there
was a shade of surprise in it.
"Haven't you come back to England to get a wife? Most young men do, when
they don't have one exported to them in Africa."
He laughed with genuine enjoyment and strove to catch the answering
gleam in her eyes, but she kept them averted. They were standing with
their backs to the wall and he could only see the profile and note the
graceful poise of the head upon the warm-colored neck that stood out
against the white bodice. The frank ring of his laughter mixed with the
merry jingle of the fifth figure--
"Well, I'm afraid I'm going to be an exception," he said.
"You think nobody good enough, perhaps," she could not help saying.
"Oh! Why should you think that?"
"Perhaps you're married already."
"Oh no, I'm not," he said earnestly. "You're not, either, are you?"
"Me?" she asked; then, with a barely perceptible pause, she said, "Of
course I am."
The thought of posing as the married woman she theoretically was,
flashed upon her suddenly and appealed irresistibly to her sense of fun.
The recollection that the nature of the ring on her finger was concealed
by her glove afforded her supplementary amusement.
"Oh!" was all he said. "I didn't catch your name exactly."
"I didn't catch yours," she replied evasively.
"David Brandon," he said readily.
"It's a pretty name," she said, turning smilingly to him. The infinite
possibilities of making fun of him latent in the joke quite warmed her
towards him. "How unfortunate for me I have destroyed my chance of
getting it."
It was the first time she had smiled, and he liked the play of light
round the curves of her mouth, amid the shadows of the soft dark skin,
in the black depths of the eyes.
"How unfortunate for me!" he said, smiling in return.
"Oh yes, of course!" she said with a little toss of her head. "There is
no danger in saying that now."
"I wouldn't care if there was."
"It is easy to smooth down the serpent when the fangs are drawn," she
laughed back.
"What an extraordinary comparison!" he exclaimed. "But where are all the
people going? It isn't all over, I hope."
"Why, what do you want to stay for? You're not dancing."
"That is the reason. Unless I dance with you."
"And then you would want to go?" she flashed with mock resentment.
"I see you're too sharp for me," he said lugubriously. "Roughing it
among the Boers makes a fellow a bit dull in compliments."
"Dull indeed!" said Hannah, drawing herself up with great seriousness.
"I think you're more complimentary than you have a right to be to a
married woman."
His face fell. "Oh, I didn't mean anything," he said apologetically.
"So I thought," retorted Hannah.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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