They made their way up Chancery Lane into Holborn. Leo hated London almost as vehemently as his cousin loved it. It was the place, he said, which had succeeded better than any other in reducing life to a huge competitive examination. Its busy, characteristic streets, which Reuben regarded with an interest both passionate and affectionate, filled him with a dreary sensation of disgust and depression. As they sat down to lunch at the First Avenue Hotel, Lord Norwood came into the dining-room. He was a tall, fair, aristocratic-looking young man, with a refined and thoughtful face, which, as he advanced towards his friend, broke into a peculiarly charming smile. Leo exclaimed with impetuosity: “Oh, there’s Norwood!” But as the latter approached he stiffened into self-consciousness; somehow, he did not welcome the juxtaposition of his cousin and his friend. Acting on a sudden impulse he rose and met the latter half-way, and the two young men stood talking together in the middle of the room. Reuben, after a moment’s hesitation, rose also and joined them. He greeted Lord Norwood, whom he had met once or twice before, with a little emphasis of deference, which was not lost on poor Leo, who hated himself at the same time for noticing it. Lord Norwood returned Reuben’s greeting with marked _hauteur_; that cousin of Leuniger’s was a snob, was not a person to be encouraged. In the young nobleman’s delicate, fastidious, but exceedingly _borné_ mind there was no mercy for such as he. Reuben, though he showed no signs of it, was keenly alive to the fact that he had been snubbed; was alive no less keenly to the many points in favour of the offender. The Norwoods were people whom it hurt the subtler part of his vanity not to stand well with. They were not rich, not “smart,” not politically important; but in their own fashion they were people of the very best sort, true aristocrats, such as few remain to us in these degenerate days. For generations they had borne the reputation of high personal character and of scholarly attainment. They were, in the true sense of the word, exclusive; and their pride was of that nature which, as the poet has it, asserts an inward honour by denying outward show. The friendship existing between Lord Norwood and Leo was founded on mutual admiration. The Jew’s many-sided talent, his brilliant scholarship, his mental quickness and versatility, above all, his musical genius, had fairly dazzled the scholarly young Englishman, who loved art, but had not a drop of artist’s blood in his veins. Leo, on his part, had fallen down before the other’s refinement of mind and soul and body, and before the delicate strength of his character. It was a strange friendship perhaps, but one which had stood, and was destined long to stand, the test of time. Meanwhile Reuben, who knew that it is half the battle not to know when you are vanquished, quietly invited Lord Norwood to join them at table.