He liked to see a woman
like her sister, having the courage of her convictions, leaving her home and her
people for the man she loved, marrying a gentile in spite of bitter parental
opposition. He admired her for that, that was all to the good, but to throw
overboard one set of hidebound prejudices and take up a whole set of new ones. To
masquerade as a hundred per cent Aryan! Why, they only had to look at her nose!
She probably had roast joint on Saturday, had it cold on Sunday and hashed up
on Monday, and sent the kids to the Church Army. At least the Jewishness she
had discarded, for all its faults, its turbulent excitable people and habits,
had life and colour, throbbed with vitality. He couldn't for the life of him
understand how any intelligent person could exchange that for the anaemic
narrow-minded dreariness of suburbia.
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