The beauty of the auditorium enchanted her--a magnificently
proportioned room, and restful without being in the least
gloomy. Then she had been interested in the congregation as
it rustled in. She thought she had never seen so many
modishly gowned women in one room in all her life. The men
were sleekly broadclothed, but they lacked the well-dressed
air, somehow. The women were slimly elegant in tailor suits
and furs. They all looked as if they had been turned out by
the same tailor. An artist, in his line, but of limited
imagination. Dr. Kirsch, sociologist and savant, aquiline,
semi-bald, grimly satiric, sat in his splendid, high-backed
chair, surveying his silken flock through half-closed lids.
He looked tired, and rather ill, Fanny thought, but
distinctly a personage. She wondered if he held them or
they him. That recalled to her the little Winnebago Temple
and Rabbi Thalmann. She remembered the frequent rudeness
and open inattention of that congregation. No doubt Mrs.
Nathan Pereles had her counterpart here, and the
hypocritical Bella Weinberg, too, and the giggling Aarons
girls, and old Ben Reitman.
Pages:
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342