“I don’t know about fashion,” answered Reuben with perfect good temper; Esther was Esther, and if you began to mind what she said, you would never know where to stop; “but there are a hundred things to be attended to. I suppose every one is going to the grandpater’s feed to-morrow?” Every one was going; then, turning to Leo, Reuben said: “When do you go up?” “Not till October 14th.” Leopold Leuniger was on the eve of his third year at Cambridge. “What have you been doing this Long?” “Oh ... staying about.” “Leo has been stopping with Lord Norwood, but we are not allowed to mention it,” cried Rose in her loud, penetrating voice, “in case it should seem that we are proud.” Leo, who was passing through a sensitive phase of his growth, winced visibly, and Reuben said in a matter-of-fact way: “Oh, by the by, I came across a cousin of Lord Norwood’s abroad--Lee-Harrison; a curious fellow, but a good fellow.” “A howling swell,” added Esther, “with a double-barrelled name.” “Exactly. But the point about him is that he has gone over body and soul to the Jewish community.” There was an ironical exclamation all round. The Jews, the most clannish and exclusive of peoples, the most keen to resent outside criticism, can say hard things of one another within the walls of the ghetto. “He says himself,” went on Reuben, “that he has a taste for religion. I believe he flirted with the Holy Mother for some years, but didn’t get caught. Then he joined a set of mystics, and lived for three months on a mountain, somewhere in Asia Minor. Now he has come round to thinking Judaism the one religion, and has been regularly received into the synagogue.” “And expects, no doubt,” said Esther, “to be rejoiced over as the one sinner that repenteth. I hope you didn’t shatter his illusions by telling him that he would more likely be considered a fool for his pains?” Reuben laughed, and with an amused expression on his now animated face went on: “He has a seat in Berkeley Street, and a brand new _talith_, but still he is not happy. He complains that the Jews he meets in society are unsatisfactory; they have no local colour. I said I thought I could promise him a little local colour; I hope to have the pleasure of introducing him to you all.” They all laughed with the exception of Rose, who said, rather offended: “I don’t know about local colour. We don’t wear turbans.” Reuben put back his head, laughing a little, and seeking Judith’s eyes for the answering smile he knew he should find there. She had been keeping rather in the background to-night, quietly but intensely happy. Reuben was back again! How delightfully familiar was every tone, every inflection of his voice! And how well she knew the changes of his face: the heavy dreaminess, the imperturbable air of Eastern gravity; then lo! the lifting of the mask; the flash and play of kindling features; the fire of speaking eyes; the hundred lights and shades of expression that she could so well interpret.