"It is my last word."
Mr. Whimpole rose with a face of scarlet, and clapped his hat on his head. "You are a--a----"
"A Jew. Leave it at that. Can you call me anything worse?" asked Aaron, with no show of anger.
"No, I cannot. You are a Jew."
"I regret," said Aaron, calmly, "that I cannot retort by calling you a Christian. May our next meeting be more agreeable! Good-evening, Mr. Whimpole."
"You do not know the gentleman you have insulted," said Mr. Whimpole, as he walked towards the door; "you do not know my position in this town. I am in the expectation of being made a justice of the peace. You will live to repent this."
"I think not," said Aaron, taking the candle to show his visitor out. "I trust you may."
"You may find your residence in Gosport, where I am universally respected, not as agreeable as you would wish it to be."
"We shall see, we shall see," said Aaron, still smiling. "I may also make myself respected here."
"There is a prejudice against your race----"