Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. “You needn’t be worried,” she said quietly. Saturday mornings at the Beck house were routine, coffee, newspaper, bagels, and Looney Toons in no particular order. "That depends upon you. People had started filling the hall: instrumentalists, overly conscientious parents. Her knees shook, her breath came fast, she almost felt the lurid effect of those tiny patches of rouge upon her pallor-stricken cheeks. You will have lots of time on your hands. “Could you play ‘Fiddler on the Roof’?” father Thomas pleaded. It was not a difficult affair. ’ ‘I still think you ought to have waited, miss.
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