Seated beside her was a bald-headed man with a lone wisp of hair directly over his forehead whom the hotel-keeper introduced as "Mr. Shapiro, a counselor," and who by his manner of greeting me showed that he was fully aware of my financial standing
The old romance of the Hebrew poet and his present wife, and more especially the fact that I had been thrilled by it in Antomir, threw a halo of ineffable fascination around their beautiful daughter
"So you are a daughter of the great Hebrew poet," I said in English
"It's awfully kind of you to speak like that," she returned
"Mr. Levinsky is known for his literary tastes, you know," Shapiro put in
"I wish I deserved the compliment," I rejoined. "Unfortunately, I don't. I am glad I find time to read the newspapers
"The newspapers are life," observed Miss Tevkin, "and life is the source of literature, or should be."
"'Or should be!'" Shapiro mocked her, fondly. "Is that a dig at the popular novels?" And in an aside to me, "Miss Tevkin has no use for them, you know."
She smiled
"Still worshiping at the shrine of Ibsen?" he asked her