I bored him. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. ” “But what are you going to do—where are you going to live?” Annabel asked. “There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. “Lighten up. Death belongs to God, young man.
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