"It will be an eternal regret to me that I missed knowing your father."
She gave me a grateful look.
"Look!" she said, seating herself on the sofa for a moment and picking up the richly-bound book lying upon it. "Look at the motto of exhortation he wrote in my prayer-book before he died. Our minister says it is in the purest Hebrew."
I went to her side and leaned over the richly-bound book, which appeared to be printed backwards, and scanned the inscription with an air of appreciation.
"Read it," she said. "Read it aloud! It comforts me to hear it."
"Read it aloud," she said. "It comforts me."
I coughed violently and felt myself growing pale. The eyes of Martin were upon me with an expression that seemed waiting to become sardonic. I called inwardly upon the Holy Mother. There seemed to be only a few words and after a second's hesitation I murmured something in my most inarticulate manner, producing some sounds approximately like those I had heard during the service.
Fanny looked up at me, puzzled.
"I do not understand your pronunciation," she said.