"No one; a man hinted as much." "But I haven't even been in her company." "Yes--at the Purim Ball." Daniel bit his lip. "Damned gossips!" he cried. "I'll never speak to the girl again." There was a tense silence for a few seconds, then old Hyams said: "Why not? You love her." Daniel stared at him, his heart palpitating painfully. The blood in his ears throbbed mad sweet music. "You love her," Mendel repeated quietly. "Why do you not ask her to marry you? Do you fear she would refuse?" Daniel burst into semi-hysterical laughter. Then seeing his father's half-reproachful, half-puzzled look he said shamefacedly: "Forgive me, father, I really couldn't help it. The idea of your talking about love! The oddity of it came over me all of a heap." "Why should I not talk about love?" "Don't be so comically serious, father," said Daniel, smiling afresh. "What's come over you? What have you to do with love? One would think you were a romantic young fool on the stage. It's all nonsense about love. I don't love anybody, least of all Bessie Sugarman, so don't you go worrying your old head about _my_ affairs. You get back to that musty book of yours there. I wonder if you've suddenly come across anything about love in that, and don't forget to use the reading glasses and not your ordinary spectacles, else it'll be a sheer waste of money. By the way, mother, remember to go to the Eye Hospital on Saturday to be tested. I feel sure it's time you had a pair of specs, too." "Don't I look old enough already?" thought Mrs. Hyams. But she said, "Very well, Daniel," and began to clear away his supper. "That's the best of being in the fancy," said Daniel cheerfully. "There's no end of articles you can get at trade prices." He sat for half an hour turning over the evening paper, then went to bed. Mr. and Mrs. Hyams's eyes sought each other involuntarily but they said nothing. Mrs. Hyams fried a piece of _Wurst_ for Miriam's supper and put it into the oven to keep hot, then she sat down opposite Mendel to stitch on a strip of fur, which had got unripped on one of Miriam's jackets. The fire burnt briskly, little flames leaped up with a crackling sound, the clock ticked quietly. Beenah threaded her needle at the first attempt. "I can still see without spectacles," she thought bitterly. But she said nothing.