You know well enough how grateful I am

“Isaac my dear, you know well enough how grateful I am—”“Becky my dear,” he says, with a note of disdain. “What I know is this: Anyone else in my position would have at his disposal at least two or three legally registered wives, not to mention a respectably large harem, full of concubines—”Being a practical woman, she decides to ignore that. “Fine, then,” she says. “So now, dear: How about giving me some means of transportation? The rich women, I hear, those in the cities along the coast, in Ashdod and also in Ashkelon, they have started to buy new automobiles. And I, I live here in the desert but still, Isaac, I come from nobility, you know, from one of the richest families in the land.”“What kind of transportation?”“A camel, for instance,” she says. “Two humps, or more, as well as a driver or two, or more; and four leather saddles, the soft kind, of course. It would be but a small token, a token of prestige—”“For goodness sake,” he groans. “It’s a camel you’re talking about—not a Rolls Royce!”“I see,” she says. “You don’t love me anymore.”For the first time in the conversation, his voice softens. “Don’t cry, Becky,” he pleads. “I love you. I will always love you—”
I imagine she must be smiling through the tears. “In that case,” she says, “I will always take such good care of you.”
Rebecca and Isaac, in A Favorite Son 

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