"
"A tinge of Jewish blood is not a bad thing. It leavens
the"--she looked at him--"stolid stupidity of the ordinary
Englishman."
Fire in her eyes, ice in her voice. I did not wonder that the
blood rose to John's face in a crimson tide.
"Mary!"
"Well?" Her tone did not change.
The pleading died out of his voice.
"Am I to understand that you will continue to see Bauerstein
against my express wishes?"
"If I choose."
"You defy me?"
"No, but I deny your right to criticize my actions. Have _you_ no
friends of whom I should disapprove?"
John fell back a pace. The colour ebbed slowly from his face.
"What do you mean?" he said, in an unsteady voice.
"You see!" said Mary quietly. "You _do_ see, don't you, that _you_
have no right to dictate to _me_ as to the choice of my friends?"
John glanced at her pleadingly, a stricken look on his face.
"No right? Have I _no_ right, Mary?" he said unsteadily. He
stretched out his hands. "Mary----"
For a moment, I thought she wavered. A softer expression came
over her face, then suddenly she turned almost fiercely away.
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