On her left sat David Salmon, with Dinah Friedberg as his partner. Dinah had grown into a very stylish girl, with plenty of what her mother called chein.[14] She had lovely dark eyes, which she used as a kind of battery to enforce the homage of the opposite sex, and was not averse to boasting of the conquests she had made. She snubbed David unmercifully, and teased him with a pertness of manner which put him on his mettle, but she was very fond of him all the same; and, although she would not have confessed it, was terribly jealous of his fiancée.
As the meal progressed, her flippancy increased, and she insisted on drinking his health in champagne. Then when order was called for the Rev. Isaac Abrahams to say grace, she made a dunce’s-cap out of her serviette, and stuck it on David’s head. This proceeding quite shocked Celia; but she found to her surprise that many of the young men followed suit. They were obliged to cover their heads while grace was being said; and as serviettes met the needs of the case, they did not trouble to fetch their hats. The Rev. Mr. Abrahams, who wore a black silk cap, smiled at them indulgently as he chanted the long Hebrew prayers. He evidently saw no irreverence in adorning one’s head like a guy in order to praise one’s Maker, although to Celia’s way of thinking it was little less than an insult to the majesty of God. The young people, however, seemed to consider it a good joke, for it created a diversion, and lightened the tedium of the grace.
In talking over the events of the evening on the drive back to Great Cumberland Place, Celia commented on the incident, and expressed her disapproval.
David was greatly amused. “What a curious girl you are!” he said. “I wonder what makes you notice these things? You always seem to be picking Jewish habits and customs to pieces. You take everything so seriously, Celia. A little incident like this isn’t worth talking about; it is such a trifling thing.”
It was indeed a trifling thing, but a straw shows how the wind lays; and it was just those trifling things which filled Celia with disgust, and ratified her opinion of the lack of spirituality in modern Judaism.
However, it was of no use to discuss the question with David; he would not, or could not, understand.
CHAPTER IV
A LETTER FROM AUSTRALIA
“David is growing impatient,” Celia said the next morning, after breakfast. “He thinks we have been engaged long enough, and wants me to name the day.”
“I am not surprised at that,” returned Lady Marjorie, looking up from her work. “What are you going to do?”
That was just what Celia did not know. She sighed heavily, and remained lost in thought. Her eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, for she had lain awake all night in uneasy deliberation of the question. Souvie jumped on her knee and demanded her attention; he never allowed his mistress to leave him unnoticed if she happened to have any spare time on her hands.