“You are talking rubbish,” said Irene, calmly.
Gerard broke into a laugh.
“Anyway, I’m glad she hasn’t cottoned to you. I don’t like Jews about the place. To your tents, O Israel!”
Irene flashed up. “You can’t object to the poor girl just because she is a Jewess!”
“Of course not, my dear,” replied her husband, with a curious change of tone. “I was only joking.”
Irene came behind his chair and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Forgive me, dear,” she said.
He nodded, and patted the back of her hand magnanimously; then pushed his chair away from the table and rose to his feet, stretching himself after the manner of burly men.
“I’m off to the smoking-room to make up some trout casts. You two can come when you’ve finished the discussion.”
When he had gone Irene took his vacated seat. “The girl seems so lonely. That’s why I take an interest in her.”