272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. I should as soon think of trusting a woman. "Is it you?" "It is," replied her son, "Oh! why would you not listen to me?" "I was distracted," replied Mrs. But his own ferocity was less now that she was disarmed. . ‘You make a game with me, I think. But here the resemblance stopped. “I don’t see that his being a good sort matters. Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them. Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly.
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