" "You're a philosopher, too. . 133 “TRY ME!” He yelled, his voice booming into the cacophony beyond the walls. I don’t care. He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. “We’ll go together. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music.
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