It was only a matter of time. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. To be exact, it was just sixteen hours and twenty minutes. ’ ‘What matters it?’ cried Melusine impatiently. He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses. "I can't tell you!" she replied, blushing deeply, and clinching her little hand as tightly as possible; "it's a secret!" "I'll soon find it out, then," he returned, playfully forcing the paper from her grasp. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. “Could you play ‘Fiddler on the Roof’?” father Thomas pleaded.
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