of _Rishus_ (malice). And so we become anti-Semites
ourselves. But by what a comical confusion of logic is it that we
carry over the objection to Jewish aggregation even to an aggregation
in Palestine, in our own land! Or is it only too logical? Is it that
the rise of a Jewish autonomous power would be a standing reminder to
our fellow-citizens that we others are not so radically British or
German or French or American as we have vaunted ourselves? Are we
afraid of being packed off to Palestine and is the fulfilment of the
dream of eighteen centuries our deadliest dread?'

The thought forced from him a sardonic smile.

'And I feared you were like King Henry--never going to smile again.'
Mabel smiled back in relief.

'We're such a ridiculous people,' he answered, his smile fading into
sombreness. 'Neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor good red herring.'

'Well, finish your good white fowl,' laughed Mabel. She had felt her
hold over him slipping, and her own apprehensions now vanished in the
effort to banish his gloom.

But she had only started him on a new tack. 'Fowl!' he cried grimly.
'_Kosher_, of course, but with bits of fried _Wurst_ to ape the scraps
of bacon. And presently we shall be having water ices to simulate
cream. We can't even preserve our dietary individuality. Truly said
Feuerbach, "Der Mensch ist was er isst." In Palestine we shall at
least dare to be true to our own gullets.' He laughed bitterly.

'You're not very romantic,' Mabel pouted. Indeed, this Barstein, whose
mere ideal could so interrupt the rhapsodies due to her admissions of
affection, was distinctly unsatisfactory. She touched his hand
furtively under the tablecloth.

'After all, she is very young,' he thought, thrilling. And youth was
plastic--he, the sculptor, could surely mould her. Besides, was she
not Sir Asher's daughter? She must surely have inherited some of his
love for Palestine and his people. It was this Philistine set that had
spoiled her. Julius, too, that young Oxford prig--he reflected
illogically--had no doubt been a baleful influence.

'Shall I give you some almond-pudding?' he replied tenderly.

Mabel laughed uneasily. 'I ask for romance, and you offer me
almond-pudding. Oh, I _should_ like to go to a Jewish party where
there wasn't almond-pudding!'

'You shall--in Palestine,' he laughed back.

She pouted again. 'All roads lead to Palestine.'

'They do,' he said seriously. 'Without Palestine our past is a
shipwre