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It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. From then until four in the afternoon there was nothing to do—the whole island went to sleep. ‘Do you tell me that my disreputable son had the infernal insolence to pass you off as that whoring Frenchwoman’s daughter?’ His answer was in their faces. From then on he was Ruth's dog. A sprinkling of callow youths, and a couple of pronounced young Jews, who were talking loudly together in some unintelligible jargon of the City.
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