"No, not that," he said more gently. "But this blessed religion of ours reckons you a divorced woman, and so you can't marry me because I'm a Cohen."
"Can't marry you because you're a Cohen!" repeated Hannah, dazed in her turn.
"We must obey the Torah," said Reb Shemuel again, in low, solemn tones.
"It is your friend Levine who has erred, not the Torah."
"The Torah cannot visit a mere bit of fun so cruelly," protested David.
"And on the innocent, too."
"Sacred things should not be jested with," said the old man in stern tones that yet quavered with sympathy and pity. "On his head is the sin; on his head is the responsibility."
"Father," cried Hannah in piercing tones, "can nothing be done?"
The old man shook his head sadly. The poor, pretty face was pallid with a pain too deep for tears. The shock was too sudden, too terrible. She sank helplessly into a chair.
"Something must be done, something shall be done," thundered David. "I will appeal to the Chief Rabbi."
"And what can he do? Can he go behind the Torah?" said Reb Shemuel pitifully.
"I won't ask him to. But if he has a grain of common sense he will see that our case is an exception, and cannot come under the Law."