"This ancient town," said Aaron with a deeper seriousness in his voice, "is known to modern men as Gosport."
"A clever discovery," sneered Mr. Whimpole. "Are you going to put another of your false constructions on it?"
"No, sir. I am about to tell you a plain and beautiful truth. When in olden times a name was given to this place it was not Gosport. It was God's Port; and what God's port is there throughout the civilized world in which Jew and Christian alike have not an equal right to live, despite prejudice, despite bigotry, and despite the unreasonable anger of large corn-chandlers and respected churchwardens? I wish you, sir, good-night."
And having by this time reached the street door, Aaron Cohen opened it for Mr. Whimpole, and bowed him politely out.
[CHAPTER XII.]
THE COURSE OF THE SEASONS.
Upon Aaron's return to the little parlor he saw that Rachel was greatly disturbed.
"My life!" he said, and he folded her in his arms and tenderly embraced her. "Don't let such a little thing as this distress you; it will all come right in the end."
"But how you kept your temper," she said, "that is what surprised me."
"It gave me the advantage of him, Rachel. I was really amused." He pinched her cheeks to bring the color back to them. "Some men must be managed one way, some another. And now for our game of bezique. Mr. Whimpole's visit"--he laughed at the recollection--"will make me enjoy it all the more."