She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. “Could you play ‘Fiddler on the Roof’?” father Thomas pleaded. I should only disappoint you terribly some day. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. She held out her arm straight before her, and turned her hand this way and that.
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