“But it isn’t. I’ve had enough of the fellow hanging about. He’s a Polish Jew, anyway.”

“A tinge of Jewish blood is not a bad thing. It leavens the”⁠—she looked at him⁠—“stolid stupidity of the ordinary Englishman.”

Fire in her eyes, ice in her voice. I did not wonder that the blood rose to John’s face in a crimson tide.

“Mary!”

“Well?” Her tone did not change.

The pleading died out of his voice.

“Am I to understand that you will continue to see Bauerstein against my express wishes?”

“If I choose.”

“You defy me?”