'You don't suppose she won't suffer dreadfully?' Barstein went on, perceiving his advantage.
'Break her heart!' repeated Sir Asher, startled out of his discreet reticence. 'I'd sooner break her heart than see her married to a Zionist!'
This time it was the sculptor's turn to gasp.
'To a what?' he cried.
'To a Zionist. You don't mean to deny you're a Zionist?' said Sir Asher sternly.
Barstein gazed at him in silence.
'Come, come,' said Sir Asher. 'You don't suppose I don't read the Jewish papers? I know all about your goings-on.'
The artist found his tongue. 'But—but,' he stammered, 'you yearn for Zion too.'
'Naturally. But I don't presume to force the hand of Providence.'
'How can any of us force Providence to do anything it doesn't want to? Surely it is through human agency that Providence always works. God helps those who help themselves.'