272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. “But Julian, we don’t even know each other!” She exclaimed. He felt her relaxation and let go of her wrists. And now the fiend Gosse had taken even that away from her. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced. Also she had tried him as a dragoman and as a gendarme, which seemed the most suitable of all to his severely handsome, immobile profile. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. She observed a man walking on the opposite side of the way and looking toward her. Gently she raised his head and withdrew the coat from under the pillow. He did not play golf, but took his exercise on horseback, which was also unsympathetic.
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