. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. She had set out to get a beautiful life, a free, untrammelled life, self-development, without counting the cost either for herself or others. “I’d give anything to kiss your neck. “Indeed, no,” he answered. The original passage, Martha had told her, had led only from an upstairs room to one downstairs. In lieu of the substantial habitations which he had gazed on overnight, he beheld a row of falling scaffoldings, for such they seemed. The remainder of dinner was surreal and stilted. His skill has not been tried. She had just passed into a little antechamber beyond when she suddenly heard a faint knocking.
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