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lunch, when we were alone, I asked Leon why he had refused the window table. He answered bluntly, "Because it is one of the best tables and I am not a pushy Jew who would be expected to demand it." He had a horror of being considered "pushy." Nothing could have been less likely. He was always unostentatious to the nth degree, reserved, wholly unaggressive. I would not say that he was anti-Semitic, but I had noticed early in our married life that he seemed to prefer the company of Gentiles, some of whom were by no means his intellectual equals. He was cordial to my Jewish friends, but he liked only a few of them. He was aware, of course, that I had been black-balled for membership in a club because it thought that I was Jewish. I laughed and assured him I couldn't care less, that even if the evidence of anti-Semitism had not appeared, the socially-conscious members of the club were scarcely the type of people with whom I would find it interesting to associate. Nevertheless, he was