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Not so much from the hostility of the populace, as from their indecent and vehement curiosity. However, in these cases, I am obliged to give the testimony of others. Mr. Cohen, when travelling through the interior, assumes the character of a quack doctor, the best passport in all these countries. Practising as he goes, he manages to get enough to bear his charges on the way.
He gave them to me because he loved you, he said. I am to give him my ore property as security, although I told him it was of no value." Peter made a step forward, stretching out a hand as if to steady himself. His face grew white then suddenly flushed. His breath seemed to have left him. "And Cohen did this!" he gasped "and you for Minott! Why why "
The old man shook his head, unwavering. His cheeks were white and wet, but his expression was stern and solemn. "Just think!" went on David passionately. "What am I better than another Jew than yourself for instance that I shouldn't marry a divorced woman?" "It is the Law. You are a Cohen a priest." "A priest, Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed David bitterly. "A priest in the nineteenth century!
<b>COHEN, KATHERINE M.</b> Honorary member of the American Art Association, Paris, and of the New Century Club, Philadelphia. Born in Philadelphia, 1859. Pupil of School of Design, Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, and of St. Gaudens at Art Students' League; also six years in Paris schools. This artist executed a portrait of General Beaver for the Smith Memorial in Fairmount Park.
Jack waited until the sound of his retreating footsteps assured the Jew's permanent departure, then he turned to Peter. "I did not want to say too much before Mr. Cohen, but Uncle Arthur's refusal has upset me completely. I could not have believed it of him. You must help me somehow, Uncle Peter. I don't mean with your own money; you have not got it to spare but so I can get it somewhere.
Abe cried. Morris nodded in the direction of the office. "Because we got one," he replied. Abe turned toward the little glass enclosure. He gasped in amazement, and nearly swallowed the stump of his cigar, for at the old stand, industriously applying herself to the books of Potash & Perlmutter, sat Mrs. Isaac Feinsilver, née Cohen.
Cohn at Mr. Simon's home in Mill Valley. If Mr. B. Cohn or Cohen confirmed Mr. Kek's story he, the said Herman Joost, would be at the store sometime before nine o'clock, and if Mr. Kek cared to, he might await him there. Mr. Kek said he would be delighted to wait for him there. At nine-fifteen Herman Joost appeared on the scene.
Cohen who shot perhaps wildly into the air, when suddenly attacked from behind. Mr. Ashley's explanation therefore was not only plausible, it was the only possible one.
It was clear that he had no interest in the fact of Deronda's appearance at the Cohens' beyond its relation to his own ideal purpose. Despairing of leading easily up to the question he wished to ask, Deronda determined to put it abruptly, and said "Can you tell me why Mrs. Cohen, the mother, must not be spoken to about her daughter?"
Holker did remember, for a wonder, and extended one hand to prove it, and Felicia but the boy was already bending over her, all his respect and admiration in his eyes. The little chub of a man was now on his feet, standing in an attentive attitude, ready to take his cue from Peter. "And now, my boy, turn this way, and let me introduce you to my very dear friend, Mr. Isaac Cohen."
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