Mr. Jansenius was a man of imposing presence, not yet in his fiftieth
year, but not far from it. He moved with dignity, bearing himself as if
the contents of his massive brow were precious. His handsome aquiline
nose and keen dark eyes proclaimed his Jewish origin, of which he was
ashamed. Those who did not know this naturally believed that he was
proud of it, and were at a loss to account for his permitting his
children to be educated as Christians. Well instructed in business,
and subject to no emotion outside the love of family, respectability,
comfort, and money, he had maintained the capital inherited from his
father, and made it breed new capital in the usual way. He was a banker,
and his object as such was to intercept and appropriate the immense
saving which the banking system effects, and so, as far as possible, to
leave the rest of the world working just as hard as before banking was
introduced. But as the world would not on these terms have banked at
all, he had to give them some of the saving as an inducement. So they
profited by the saving as well as he, and he had the satisfaction
of being at once a wealthy citizen and a public benefactor, rich in
comforts and easy in conscience.

He entered the room quickly, and his wife saw that something had vexed
him.

"Do you know what has happened, Ruth?" he said.

"Yes. She is upstairs."

Mr. Jansenius stared. "Do you mean to say that she has left already?" he
said. "What business has she to come here?"