I thank you most sincerely, but--
no--you must not give them to me. I--"
Isaac wheeled suddenly and drew himself up. His little mouse eyes
were snapping, and his face fiery red.
"You will not take them! Why?"
"I don't know--I can't!"
"I know!" he cried angrily, but with a certain dignity. "It is
because I am a Jew. Not because I am a tailor--you have too much
sense for that--but because I am a Jew!"
"Oh, Mr. Cohen!"
"Yes--I know--I see inside of you. I read you just as if you were
a page in a book. Who taught you to think that? Not your Uncle
Peter; he loves me--I love him. Who taught you such nonsense?" His
voice had risen with every sentence. In his indignation he looked
twice his size. "Is not my money as good as that man Breen's--who
insults you when you go to him?--and who laughed at you? Have I
laughed at you? Does Mr. Grayson laugh?"
Jack tried to interrupt, but the tailor's words poured on.
"And now let me tell you one thing more, Mr. John Breen. I do not
give you the bonds. I give them to Mr.
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