272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. I told her I was sick today and she told me to get over myself. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. That terrible Young Person! she’s vanished. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. ‘Dieu du ciel, but answer me!’ Martha’s eyes were swimming again, and she reached out. She answered weakly, “I’m fine, John. I am—’ ‘Like me, entirely English. His figure was slight, but well-built; and, in stature he did not exceed five feet four.
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