Jewish people, as a rule, use their dining-rooms to sit in, keeping the
drawing-rooms for company only. This is always presupposing that they have
no extra sitting-room. After all, a dining-room is not a bad place for the
family gathering, having a large table as an objective plane for a round
game, which also serves as a support for reading matter; while from an
economical point of view it preserves the drawing-rooms in reception
stiffness and ceremonious newness.
The apartment they entered was large and square, and contained the
regulation chairs, table, and silver and crystal loaded sideboard.
Upon the mantel-piece, the unflickering light from a waxen taper burning in
a glass of oil lent an unusual air of Sabbath quiet to the room.
"I have 'Yahrzeit' for my mother," explained Jo Lewis, glancing toward the
taper after greeting his visitors. He sat down quietly again.
"Do you always burn the light?" asked Arnold.
"Always. A light once a year to a mother's memory is not much to ask of a
son."
"How long is it since you lost your mother?" questioned Ruth, gently.
Jo Lewis was a man with whom she had little in common. To her he seemed to
have but one idea, --the amassing of wealth. With her more intellectual
cravings, the continual striving for this, to the exclusion of all higher
aspirations, put him on a plane too narrow for her footing.
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