‘Do not look at me so,’ he snapped. He went on with intense urgency. “Could you play ‘Fiddler on the Roof’?” father Thomas pleaded. ‘Believe it or not, I do it for pleasure. But I am not worthy to be any man's wife —far less his wife. ” His fingers touched hers for a moment under the ledge of the box. And now, my angel, that I am acquainted with your sentiments on this subject, I shall readily fulfil a promise which I made to your lamented parent, whose loss I shall ever deplore. He nodded silently, too full for words.
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