272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. He insisted once again on opening the car door for her. ‘Dare I suppose that to be of her making?’ Gerald flushed. It was a pity he didn't break his neck, for he was hanged within the year. " "Ask them, all of them, and I will gladly answer.
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