He was proud of his house, his wife and his children. He was proud, Heaven knows why, of his personal appearance, his mental qualities, and his sex; this last to an even greater extent than most men of his race, with whom pride of sex is a characteristic quality. “Blessed art Thou, O Lord my God, who hast not made me a woman.” No prayer goes up from the synagogue with greater fervour than this. This fact notwithstanding, it must be acknowledged that, save in the one matter of religious observation, Montague Cohen was led by the nose by his wife, whose intelligence and vitality far exceeded his own. Borne along in her wake, he passed his life in pursuit of a shadow which is called social advancement; going uncomplainingly over quagmires, into stony places, up and down uncomfortable declivities; following patiently and faithfully wherever the restless, energetic Adelaide led. Esther and her mother were the next to arrive. Mrs. Kohnthal was old Solomon’s eldest child, a stout, dark, exuberant-looking woman, between whom and her daughter was waged a constant feud. The whole party of the Leunigers, with the exception of Ernest, who never dined out, was not long in following: Mrs. Leuniger, dejected, monosyllabic, untidy as usual; Mr. Leuniger, cheerful, pompous, important; Rose, loud-voiced, overdressed, good-tempered; Judith, blooming, stately, calm, in her fashionable gown, which assorted oddly, a close observer might have thought, with the exotic nature of her beauty. Leo dragged in mournfully in the rear of his party; he was in one of his worst moods. He hated these family gatherings, and had only been prevailed on with great difficulty to put in an appearance. “We are all here,” cried Adelaide, when greetings had been exchanged, “with the exception of the hero of the feast.” “Who has evidently,” added Esther, “a sense of dramatic propriety.” “Reuben is at his club,” explained Mrs. Sachs, looking under her eyelids at Judith, who had taken a seat opposite her. She admired the girl immensely, and at the bottom of her heart was fond of her. Judith, on her part, would have found it hard to define her feelings towards Mrs. Sachs. With Reuben she was always calm; in his mother’s presence she was conscious of a strange agitation, of the stirrings of an emotion which was neither love, nor hate, nor fear, but which perhaps was compounded of all three. They had not long to wait before the door was thrown open and the person expected entered. He came straight across the room to old Solomon, a vivifying presence--Reuben Sachs, with his bad figure, awkward movements, and charming face, which wore to-night its air of greatest alertness. The old man, who had finished his prayers and taken off his cap, greeted the newcomer with something like emotion. Solomon Sachs, if report be true, had been a hard man in his dealings with the world; never overstepping the line of legal honesty, but taking an advantage wherever he could do so with impunity.