"Can you show me proof of it?"
"I thank you again, sir. But it wasn't my idea; it was my wife's. 'Take the marriage certificate with you,' she said. She has wonderful ideas."
"Let me see the certificate."
The young man instantly produced it, and Aaron, with a deep-drawn breath of relief, saw recorded there the marriage of Miss Ruth Cohen and the Honourable Percy Storndale.
"You married my--my daughter, I see," said Aaron, "in a registrar's office."
"I don't know how to apologise to you, sir," said the young man, as relieved by Aaron's calm attitude as Aaron was himself at this proof of an honourable union. "I can't conceive anything meaner; but what could I do? Ruth--Miss Cohen, you know--being a Jewess, could not well have been married in a church, and I, being a Christian, could not well have been married in a synagogue. It was a very delicate point; I am not acquainted with the law on the subject, but no fellow can deny that it was a delicate point. Then there was another difficulty. Bridesmaids, bridesmaids' presents, and general expenses, to say nothing of the publicity when the parties principally concerned wanted to get it over quietly and quickly. Ruth said you would never consent; I said my family would never consent; so what else was there for it? Pray forgive me if I am expressing myself clumsily."
"Your family did not encourage the match?"
"Dead against it; from the first dead against it. Bullied and threatened me. 'What!' they cried, 'marry a Jewess!' 'As good as any Christian,' I retorted. But did you ever know a Storndale listen to reason, Mr. Cohen?"
"You are a Storndale," said Aaron, quietly.
"Had me there," chuckled the young man. "'Gad, sir, you had me there. Well, sir, that is how it stands, and if you show me the door I'll not say I don't deserve it."