She married my Dad in a small ceremony down at City Hall. “Number 13, please, cabman. He knew my name, and also that I had been living in Paris, and a man doesn’t risk claiming a girl for his wife, as a rule, for nothing. She turned them down and gently placed the violin back in its red fake fur lined chamber. She crawled over and caught at the skirts of this white woman who understood. I have proofs of many things that can endanger you.
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