“Could you play ‘Fiddler on the Roof’?” father Thomas pleaded. ” She replied. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. " "What?" he barked. Taking hold of the hilt of his own foil, he drew it forth.
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