All that I regret are the wasted years, and I am not sure that I regret them. . ’ Shock spread across her lovely features. ” Michelle said, a cruel inflection lowering her voice. All the initial confidence in herself was gone; her courage was merely a shell to hide the lack. “Could you play ‘Fiddler on the Roof’?” father Thomas pleaded. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. Ireton rushed forward to open the wicket for him. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. John spent the first weeks of summer backpacking in Europe, and she heard occasional news from Michelle of his whereabouts. " "If only…. “Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly.
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