If you don’t think it would be a social outrage, perhaps I might walk with you to your railway station. “Could you play ‘Fiddler on the Roof’?” father Thomas pleaded. There stood John and Mr. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. ’ To his intense satisfaction, mademoiselle burst into laughter. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. This is a tale of two young fools. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised.
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