“Could you play ‘Fiddler on the Roof’?” father Thomas pleaded. Another horn now resounded from the further extremity of the thoroughfare; this was answered by a third; and presently a fourth, and more remote blast, took up the note of alarm. By this time, the procession had reached the west end of the wall of St. Kneebone and his Friends. He was a comforting, humorous old ruffian; but there were few men in the Orient more deeply read in psychology and physiognomy.
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