John’s father added cheerfully, “So, do you play any violin?” She balked at the stereotype, but admitted, “Yes, I play violin. Here, then, but for the time and place, might be another Sidney Carton. The forgiveness and reconciliation was a cold and formal affair, and afterwards her father went off gloomily to his study, and Mr. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. “Maybe we could swing a scholarship to Boston College for you, you know, with your violin and all.
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