"True, true." He forgot his part. "Then you are a good Jewess still?"
She shook her head sadly. "We have outlived our destiny. Our isolation is a meaningless relic."
But she had kindled a new spark of hope.
"Can't you bring him over to us?"
"To what? To our empty synagogues?"
"Then you are going over to him?" He tried to keep his voice steady.
"I must; his father is an archdeacon."
"I know, I know," he said, though she might as well have said an archangel.
"But you do not believe in—in—"
"I believe in self-sacrifice; that is Christianity."