The well of tears in her eyes was dry. ‘I’m taking you to Gerald, my girl. " "The boy's not at my house," replied Wild. Earles protested, seating himself before the desk, and dipping his pen in the ink. She was honest again. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men. " "For me!" vociferated Mrs.
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